


Another Life

by diandrahollman



Category: Lost
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-17 19:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 39,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10600302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diandrahollman/pseuds/diandrahollman
Summary: “In another life, I would make you stay so I don’t have to say you were the one that got away.” The One That Got Away - Katy Perry"Let’s enlighten the night / We can fall away, slip out of sight / When you drop your guard / Melt into time, so intertwined, quiet. / I know the battles of chasing the shadows of who you wanna be / It doesn’t matter, go on and shatter, I’m all you need. / Broken pieces, break into me / So imperfectly what you should be / Lay here, it’s safe here, I’ll let you be broken open / Hide here, confide here so we can be broken open"  Broken Open – Adam LambertRe-post of a story I posted on Livejournal





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this story since sometime after "Recon" when [](http://ellel.livejournal.com/profile)[**ellel**](http://ellel.livejournal.com/) and I were having conversations about the Jawyer slash potential in the sideways!verse and the plot bunnies harrassed me until I started writing a story that fit [this synopsis she came up with](http://ellel.livejournal.com/377667.html?thread=6363459#t6363459). I'm still working on it, but I wanted to start posting it before parts of it either become cannon (see: Juliet) or become screwed by cannon (see: characters dropping like flies).

There are always risks that come with being a cop. Criminals, no matter how minor the crime, can be unpredictable. And thanks to American gun laws, odds are most of them are armed. All it takes is one armed robber or drug dealer with an itchy trigger finger to turn a simple bust into a shootout at the O-K Corral.

Detective James Ford tried to console himself with this thought as he sat in a waiting room at St. Sebastien hospital, clutching the plastic bag that contained his partner’s personal belongings and looking at the clock for the umpteenth time. There was nothing he could have done to stop the perp from shooting Miles in the back, but that didn’t keep him from berating himself anyway.

‘It should have been me,’ he kept thinking, irrational though the thought may have been.

He nearly vaulted to his feet when the doctor came into the room, still dressed in surgical scrubs.

“You’re with Mr. Straume,” the man asked.

Ford nodded. “He okay?”

“We got the bullet out. It looks like it missed his spinal chord, but there’s some pretty significant swelling. We’re going to have to keep watching that to make sure it goes down.”

“But he’ll still be able to walk, right?”

The doctor sighed. “It’s a little too early to tell for sure, but if the swelling goes down there’s a chance he will, yes.”

‘Aren’t doctors usually more optimistic,’ Ford wondered. “Okay,” he said slowly.

“He should be in recovery now. I’ll have a nurse come get you when we find him a room.”

Ford nodded. “Hey, doc,” he said as the man turned to leave. “Don’t think I got your name. James Ford.” He held his hand out.

The doctor accepted the handshake with a tentative smile. “Jack Shephard.”

*********

Dr. Jack Shephard, Ford decided over the next couple days, had a giant stick up his ass. And, of course, Ford being Ford, he had made a pet project of trying to get the good doctor to loosen up.

“Don’t you got a wife to go home to,” he began one night when he visited Miles after a long shift to find Jack standing beside the bed with a clipboard.

Jack ignored him, scribbling something on the clipboard, and Ford wondered if he was still annoyed by his request for some descent porn the day before.

“Girlfriend?”

Jack barely glanced at him – as if Ford were little more than a pest he couldn’t get rid of – and refocused on Miles. “Are you feeling any pain?”

“A little,” Miles said, glancing at Ford warily.

Jack nodded and scribbled some more.

“Boyfriend?”

Jack’s hand faltered, nearly dropping the pen, and he shot Ford a half-hearted glare.

‘Interesting,’ Ford mussed.

“Jim,” Miles warned.

Ford ignored him. “C’mon. Good lookin’ doctor like you’s gotta have plenty a folks willin’ to warm his bed at night.”

“I don’t see how that’s any business of yours, Detective,” Jack said shortly. He made one final note on Miles’ chart and tried to rearrange his features into a kinder expression as he addressed his patient. “I’ll tell the nurses to adjust your meds.”

“You can call me Jim, handsome.”

Jack blinked at Ford silently for a moment, then turned and stalked out the door.

Miles groaned. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Ford smirked. “I think he likes me.”

“That’s not funny.”

Ford shrugged and dropped into his usual chair beside the bed. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be.”

Miles sighed. “Look, Jim, I’m cool with the fact that you bat for both teams, but even if this guy *is* in the closet, he’s obviously not ready to come out any time soon. And he saved my life, so could you at least try not to piss him off? Please?”

Ford blew out a breath and smiled. “Well. Long’s you asked so nicely.”

********

Ford was wandering the halls trying to find a nurse on duty when he saw her.

A striking blonde with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen sat on one of the uncomfortably hard plastic chairs at the end of one hallway. He noted the absence of a ring on her finger before casually slipping into the empty seat beside her.

“Waitin’ for somebody?”

The woman stiffened, unconsciously turning her body to put herself between Ford and the dark-haired teenager sitting beside her. Had she not made such an obvious protective gesture, Ford probably wouldn’t even have noticed the kid, much less connected him to the woman. The boy certainly hadn’t noticed Ford. He sat slumped in his chair, eyes closed, earbuds stuffed in his ears, totally oblivious to the world around him.

“Relax,” Ford said quickly, pulling aside the edge of his jacket so she could see the badge clipped to his belt. “I’m a cop.”

She relaxed only slightly. “You’re not hospital security,” she noted coolly.

“My partner’s a patient here.”

She nodded, relaxing a little more.

Ford held his hand out to her. “James Ford.”

She looked at him warily and slowly accepted the handshake, her grip firm and confident. “Juliet Burke.”

Ford smiled, turning on every ounce of charm he possessed. “So...who’re you waitin’ for?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t look sick and neither does junior over there.”

She cocked her head curiously, her expression unchanged. “How do you know he’s my son?”

“I’m a detective. Wouldn’t be any good if I didn’t notice things. You gonna keep changin’ the subject?”

She smiled. “We’re here to see his father.”

“Ah,” Ford nodded. “He a patient?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but something over Ford’s shoulder caught her eye suddenly. She turned to nudge the oblivious teenager. “David,” she said loudly.

David opened his eyes – just as brilliantly blue as his mother’s – and pulled the earbuds from his ears before reaching for the backpack between his legs.

“Nice to meet you, Detective,” Juliet said pleasantly as she moved to stand.

“Hey, maybe I can get you a cup of coffee later,” Ford offered.

“Ah, no, I don’t think so,” she smiled apologetically. “But thanks.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Ford mumbled dejectedly as she headed David down the hall. His eyes followed her path curiously and he froze.

Jack Shephard stood at the other end of the hall by the nurses’ station, staring at Ford with barely concealed anger. Ford stared back, dumbfounded, as Juliet and David headed straight for his partner’s doctor. ‘What are the odds?’

He smirked as Jack spoke to them, shooting uncomfortable looks at Ford every so often. Jack Shephard was proving to be much more interesting than he’d originally thought.


	2. Chapter 2

“Can I speak to you? In private?” 

It wasn’t a question really. The look in Jack’s eyes and the way he practically hissed the words through his teeth made that much clear. 

Ford smiled and winked at Miles. “Sure thing, Doc.” 

Miles shot him a warning look, which he ignored. 

“Let’s go to my office,” Jack grumbled once they were in the hall, turning and walking away before Ford could respond. 

Ford followed him to a private office with his name stenciled on the window, noting the stiffness of his shoulders and the clipped cadence of his steps. 

“What the hell is wrong with you,” Jack demanded the minute the door swung shut behind Ford. 

“Settle down, Doc. I didn’t know she was your ex.” 

“She’s not...” Jack broke off and took a deep breath. “Look, I’m willing to put up with your crap until your partner is discharged, but Juliet is the mother of my son. Stay away from her.” 

“You may wanna watch what you say there, Doc, or I might have to arrest you for threatenin’ a police officer.” 

Most people would take a step back after a statement like that. Jack took a step closer and looked Ford right in the eye. 

“Don’t you dare hide behind your badge. I will not let you hurt her.” 

Ford raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure I’d hurt her?” 

“Because guys like you always do. You lure women into bed with your charming bad boy act and then ditch them before the sheets are even cold. And it’s guys like me who always have to deal with the fallout.” 

Ford brushed this comment aside and went right for the questions he really wanted answered. “Who is she to you anyway?” 

Jack’s face twisted in confusion. “What?” 

“Obviously you’ve known her a long time – since college, I’m guessin’ – and you got her pregnant, but you said she ain’t your ex.” 

“We were never married,” Jack practically growled. 

“Ah. So was she your girlfriend or were you just casual fuck buddies?” 

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell difference does it make?” 

Ford shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out why you’d let a beautiful woman like that go.” 

“Just stay away from her. You hurt her, you hurt my son. And if you hurt my son, I don’t care what your badge says, I’ll kill you.” 

If Ford heard this last statement, he gave no indication. “She figured out you were a Midnight Cowboy, didn’t she?” 

Jack blinked. “A what?” 

“Pillow biter? Switch hitter?” Ford sighed as Jack continued to blink at him naively. “Closet case?” 

Jack’s eyes widened and he took a sudden, instinctive step backward, away from Ford, shaking his head. “I’m not gay.” 

Ford snorted. “Sure y’ain’t. What are you then, a confirmed bachelor?” 

Jack’s mouth opened, then snapped shut, his eyes flitting to the door as if searching for someone or something that could rescue him from this conversation. 

“She was your beard,” Ford pressed. “You thought you could prove you were straight, but she just didn’t do it for ya.” 

Jack’s eyes met Ford’s again, narrowing. “I don’t have to prove anything to you or anyone else.” 

Ford shrugged. “No. You could just go on livin’ in denial. Or I could do this...” In two predatorily quick steps he crossed the space between them, gripped Jack’s head between his hands and kissed him forcefully. 

Jack gasped, startled, and Ford’s tongue invaded his mouth, running along the stunned doctor’s, trying to coax a reaction. 

A moment later, Jack’s mind caught up to his body and he struggled, wrenching himself from Ford’s grasp and stumbling backward. 

Ford yelped as Jack’s fist connected with his left eye almost before he even saw it coming. “Son of a...” 

“Get out of my office.” Jack’s voice was low and threatening, but his hands shook slightly and his eyes reflected more confusion and anxiety than anger – though the anger was there too. “Get out,” he repeated, louder, when Ford didn’t immediately retreat. “Before I call security.” 

‘And tell them what,’ Ford thought, gingerly fingering the skin beneath his eye to make sure it was still intact. ‘I’m the one with the black eye here.’ He didn’t point out that security was unlikely to do anything once they saw his badge. He had crossed a line. And if Jack decided to report the incident to Ford’s superior there would be hell to pay. 

“Let me know when you’re ready to come out of that closet, Doc,” Ford mumbled before turning and slipping out of Jack’s office. 

********* 

Miles was sitting up in bed – or rather the bed was tilted almost fully upright to make it look as if he was – when Ford came in. 

“What the hell did you do to Dr. Shephard,” he demanded. 

“What’d *I* do? Did you see this?” He pointed to the puffy, darkening skin beneath his eye. 

“Yeah. And knowing you, you deserved it.” 

Ford rolled his eyes. “What’d he say?” 

“He didn’t say anything. But he also won’t look me in the eye and he keeps watching the door like he expects to be ambushed any second and he needs to be ready to run.” 

Ford sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I kissed him,” he finally admitted. 

Miles groaned. “Damnit, Jim, I told you to leave him alone! You don’t even know he’s gay.” 

Ford snorted. “Trust me, he is. He just don’t know it yet.” 

Miles gave Ford a look that Ford silently understood to mean ‘if I wasn’t recovering from spinal surgery, I’d kick your ass right now.’ “And what? You thought if you kissed him he’d suddenly decide to come out of the closet he’s been in for – what – thirty, forty years? You’re not *that* good.” 

“Oh? How would you know?” 

“Charlotte told me.” 

Ford looked wounded. “She said I wasn’t good?” 

“No, her exact words were ‘he thinks he’s Don Juan, but he’s really just a cocky wanker who knows how to find a g-spot’.” 

Ford smiled. “Knew she wasn’t fakin’ it.” 

Miles sighed. “Jim...the man has obviously been in the closet his entire adult life. He’s not going to come out just because you fluttered your eyelashes at him and turned on your Southern Charm.” 

“I never said it would be *easy*.” 

Miles fixed him with his best ‘don’t fuck with me’ look. “Why is this so important to you? What is it about this guy?” 

Ford thought about that seriously for a minute. He didn’t really know why it was so important to him to conquer the good doctor – because that’s basically what he was doing when one boiled it down. He wanted to break through all of Jack’s defenses and show him what he’d been missing all these years by pretending he was something he wasn’t. He couldn’t stop picturing Jack splayed out on a mattress beneath him, moaning and writhing, lost to a pleasure he’d probably never really known. Ford felt his cock twitch at the thought of it. “I want him,” he said simply. 

“Why?” 

Ford frowned, confused. 

“Do you want him because you’re attracted to him,” Miles asked simply. “Or is he some sort of challenge to you and you want to screw him just to prove that you can?” 

Ford blinked at Miles stupidly. This, he realized, was what made Miles such a good detective. He could see right through people – figure out their motives and intentions sometimes before even they knew what they were. But it couldn’t be that simple, could it? Yes, the fact that Jack was so stubbornly refusing to admit he was attracted to men made Ford want him even more, but that wasn’t the *only* reason he wanted him. 

“I...” 

He trailed off as the door to the hospital room opened and Jack stepped in, his eyes on the file in his hand. He froze when he looked up and saw Ford, his hand tensing on the doorknob. “I can come back later,” he mumbled and started to back into the hall. 

“No, wait,” Miles called. “It’s okay. I promise my idiot partner will behave himself.” 

Jack hesitated, looking at Ford warily, obviously wishing Miles had given him a reason to leave, then slowly eased the rest of the way into the room. 

He fell into his usual professional role easily enough – checking the monitors, questioning Miles, testing his reflexes – but any time Ford moved, Jack’s eyes would snap to him warily, like he expected Ford to attack him suddenly at any moment. The ridiculousness of such a thought made Ford smile. ‘Yeah, Doc,’ he thought. ‘I’m gonna tackle you to the ground and ravish you right here in front of my partner. ‘cause, you know, us homos just can’t control ourselves.’ 

He couldn’t resist messing with Jack just a little though. He sank low in his chair, letting his legs fall open wide and rested one hand on his inner thigh. 

Jack’s eyes predictably snapped toward him at the movement, falling naturally to Ford’s exposed crotch. He looked away quickly and visibly swallowed, but not before Ford caught a flash of something that looked an awful lot like desire in his eyes. It happened so quickly he was sure even Jack wasn’t aware of it. Not that he would admit to it either way. 

Jack poked Miles’ lower legs with a pen a couple more times and straightened, clearing his throat. “Well, the swelling has gone down and your reflexes are normal,” he announced. “We should be able to start you on physical therapy tomorrow.” 

Miles blew out a relieved breath and smiled. “Thank you.” 

Jack smiled back, blindly stuffing the pen back into his breast pocket. Then he picked up the clipboard and turned to leave, casting one last wary glance at Ford. 

Ford leaped from his chair before Jack made it to the door. “Hey, Doc...” 

Jack visibly flinched and unconsciously held the clipboard in front of him like a shield as he turned to face Ford. 

Ford started to offer his hand to Jack, but thought better of it, sliding both hands casually in his pockets. “Just wanted to thank you for everythin’ you’ve done. Savin’ my partner and all.” 

Jack stared at him blankly for a couple heartbeats, uncertain. “You don’t have to thank me.” 

Ford smiled. “Yeah. I kinda do.” 

Jack looked back at Miles – who looked just as clueless about the change in Ford’s behavior. Then he forced a small smile and nodded, not looking Ford in the eyes, before finally slipping out of the room. 

Miles’ eyes narrowed as Ford turned back to him. “What game are you playing here, man?” 

Ford shrugged. “Direct approach wasn’t workin’.” 

Miles made a face that Ford knew meant he was about to start lecturing. 

“He wants me,” he added before Miles could start. “I can see it in his eyes. He just don’t want to admit it yet. He’ll come around. I just gotta be gentle with him.” 

Miles stared at him silently for a minute, then grumbled. “Fine. But I am not getting involved. If this blows up and he reports you to the chief for sexual harassment I am *not* backing you up. I don’t want to have anything to do with this.” 

Ford nodded. He doubted it would come to that, but if worse came to worst, he wouldn’t let Miles take any blame for not stopping him sooner. “Deal.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ford juggled two Starbucks coffee cups in one hand while he knocked on Jack’s office door. He went in without waiting for a response. 

Jack looked up from the paperwork on his desk and froze, staring dumbly at this unexpected intruder. 

Ford transferred one of the cups to his freed hand and held it aloft. “Got you some coffee.” He reached Jack’s desk in two strides and set the cup in an empty space between folders. 

Jack’s expression didn’t change. “Did my assistant let you in?” 

“Your assistant told me how you take your coffee. Sweet girl. I think she likes me.” 

Jack’s jaw twitched slightly. “What are you doing here?” 

“We’ve obviously gotten off on the wrong foot here. I was hopin’ maybe we could start over.” 

“And you decided the best way to do that was to flirt your way past my assistant to bring me coffee.” 

“Actually, I wanted to buy you a beer, but I wasn’t sure when you get off work.” 

“You want to buy me a beer.” Jack’s tone was becoming increasingly incredulous. 

“You hard of hearin’ or you just like repeatin’ everything I say?” 

Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why?” 

“Thought I already told you why.” 

“No, why do you care what I think about you? Once your partner is discharged you won’t have any reason to see me ever again.” The ‘and *I* won’t have any reason to see *you*’ part was obviously implied. 

‘Because I *want* to have a reason to see you,’ Ford thought. “C’mon, just one drink.” 

Jack looked back down at his paperwork, flipping a page over and scribbling a signature on a dotted line at the bottom. “I don’t drink.” 

Ford noted at least three non-verbal tells that told him Jack was lying, but he brushed it off. “Okay then, how ‘bout dinner? You gotta eat.” 

Jack looked back up at him, his pen poised in mid-air. “Are you asking me on a date?” 

Ford blustered. “What? A guy can’t buy another guy dinner without callin’ it a date?” 

Jack looked skeptical. 

Ford sighed. “Okay, how ‘bout lunch then? I know a good sandwich place a couple blocks away.” 

Jack looked blankly at his paperwork, then at the coffee cup on his desk, debating with himself for several long moments. “Fine,” he finally said. “If it’ll get you to leave me alone.” 

‘For now,’ Ford thought triumphantly. He smiled brightly. “Great! I’ll pick you up at 12.” 

“11:30.” Jack reached for the coffee cup and took a tentative sip. 

Ford nodded and turned for the door. “All right then.” 

“And Detective?” 

Ford turned back, one hand already on the door handle. “Yeah?” 

Jack held up the coffee cup. “You forgot the sugar.” 

Ford grinned. “I’ll remember it next time.” 

And before Jack could comment on that statement, Ford backed from his office and closed the door. 

******* 

Ford had recommended the barbecue roast beef sandwich partly because it was a specialty of the restaurant and partly because it was messy. He also made sure he didn’t grab nearly enough napkins. He watched Jack eat his sandwich carefully while he prattled on about his son the musical genius, being careful to keep most of the sauce from dripping. 

“I took piano lessons when I was his age, but I could never play like that,” Jack marveled, sucking the tip of his middle finger into his mouth all too briefly – cleaning sauce from it quickly and efficiently. 

Ford hummed and made a show of licking sauce from his index finger in a wholly obscene fashion, closing his eyes and making a face that could only be described as orgasmic. “Christ, this is good,” he muttered. 

He opened his eyes and was pleased to find Jack staring at him, his cheeks bulging slightly from the mouthful he seemed to have forgotten to chew. 

“So,” Ford said brightly as if he hadn’t just been purposefully making suggestive gestures designed to short-circuit Jack’s brain. “You never said what happened to you and Blondie.” 

Jack swallowed slowly, giving a slight head shake as if to dispel the images Ford had just burned into his subconscious. “What?” 

Ford raised an eyebrow. “The kid’s momma?” 

Jack cleared his throat and reached for his water glass, taking a healthy gulp. “We dated in college,” he finally admitted. “Or rather we were *friends* in college and we tried dating for a while, but it didn’t work out. I proposed when I found out she was pregnant, but she said no. She said the fact that we had a child didn’t necessarily mean we were meant to be together.” He shrugged. “She was right. We’re still friends, but we never really worked as a couple.” 

‘Gee, I wonder why,’ Ford thought blithely. “You seen anyone since?” 

Jack seemed to wince a little. “No. I went to medical school after that.” He set his sandwich down and leaned forward, his casual tone dropping. “Look, I don’t know why you’ve taken such an interest in my sex life, but I meant what I said about Juliet. I’m not saying it as a jealous ex-lover, I’m saying it as a friend and the father of her child. Stay away from her.” 

Ford cocked his head. “What makes you think I want her?” 

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not exactly subtle.” 

Ford smirked. ‘And yet you still don’t have a clue.’ “She ain’t exactly my type.” It was only a partial lie. If the circumstances had been different he probably would have made a play for her. But if the circumstances had been different she probably wouldn’t have a teenage son and an overprotective ex. 

Jack frowned. “Then what is this all about? What do you want from me?” 

“You’re a smart man, Doc.” Ford set his own sandwich on his plate and slowly licked away the sauce that had dripped down the outside of his palm, his tongue sticking almost all the way out of his mouth. “Thought you’d’ve figured that out by now.” 

Ford watched as Jack’s expression shifted from angry to lustful to confused to shocked all in the span of a heartbeat. 

“Me,” he practically choked. 

Ford rolled his eyes. “Boy, you really are dense. I ain’t in the habit of kissin’ people I ain’t interested in.” 

Jack’s eyes darted around the restaurant like he was afraid somebody he knew might be listening in. “I already told you I’m not gay,” he hissed. 

“And yet you keep lookin’ at me like you’re picturin’ me suckin’ your dick.” 

Jack’s face flushed. “I am not...” His eyes scanned the restaurant again before focusing on Ford, narrowing. “Why are you doing this? First you harass me, then you hit on my son’s mother, and now you’re trying to get me to admit I’m gay? Why, so you can ridicule me some more?” 

Ford frowned. “No, so I can kiss you again without you tryin’ to take my head off.” 

Jack gave a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “Why would you want to do that? You’re obviously not gay.” 

“No, I’m bisexual.” 

Jack hesitated, mouth half open, whatever comment he had intended to make dying on his tongue. “Bisexual,” he repeated dumbly. 

“There you go repeatin’ everything I say again. Yeah, bisexual. As in it don’t make much difference to me what equipment you got in that obviously tight underwear o’ yours, Doc. I’d still wanna fuck your brains out.” 

Jack slumped a little and massaged his forehead. “Please, just...stop.” 

Ford ignored his plea and sat up straighter, leaning over the small table. “What’re you so afraid of, Jack? What d’you think is gonna happen if you come outta that closet?” 

Jack looked at his watch and abruptly pushed back from the table. “I’ve gotta go,” he mumbled. “Thanks for lunch.” 

Ford’s face screwed up in frustration. “Now hold on...” he reached out as Jack started to walk past him. 

Jack sidestepped his reaching hand. “Don’t. Just...leave me alone.” He shook his head and left the restaurant without another word.


	4. Chapter 4

For two days Jack avoided Ford entirely. This, it turned out, was easy for him to do as Miles was spending most of the day with nurses and a physical therapist. Jack merely needed to check in once in a while to make sure he was still mending properly. 

On the third day – despite Miles’ warnings – Ford went looking for Jack. 

“I’m sorry,” his assistant said with genuine apology. “He’s not in today.” 

Ford frowned. “Is his kid sick?” 

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that! His sister is having a baby.” 

Ford blinked at her stupidly. “His sister?” 

“Well...half-sister.” The assistant winced, as if mentally berating herself for saying too much. 

Ford decided to give her an out and bluff. “Oh, well, why didn’t you say so? I didn’t know his baby sister was havin’ a baby.” He hoped the woman really was Jack’s *younger* sister. “Jeez. Guess I should send her a card. What hospital is she at?” 

The assistant glanced past his shoulder and leaned forward conspiratorially. “She’s downstairs in the maternity ward.” 

Ford smiled charmingly at her. “Thanks sweetheart.” 

****** 

He found David in the waiting room. The boy was still plugged into his MP3 player, but this time he was fully alert, eyes roaming the room, checking the clock anxiously. 

“Mind if I join you,” Ford asked cautiously. 

The kid hesitated a moment, then nodded, pulling the earbuds from his ears as Ford slumped into the chair beside him. “You’re that cop, aren’t you?” 

Ford chuckled. “Your parents warn you about me?” 

“Not exactly.” 

When David didn’t elaborate any further Ford decided it would be best to change the subject. “So, you excited to meet your new cousin?” 

David scrunched up his face in a way that made him look exactly like his father. “I guess. I mean...it’s kinda weird. I only just found out about Claire.” 

“Claire. That’s your dad’s sister?” 

“Yeah. Grandpa never talked about her. They found her name in his will.” 

Ford winced. “Didn’t know your grand-daddy was dead. I’m sorry.” 

“Thanks,” David mumbled, picking an invisible thread on his jeans and checking the clock again. 

“Your momma around,” Ford asked, mildly curious but mostly hoping to change the subject again. 

“She’s out of town.” 

“Ah.” 

“Dad doesn’t like you talking to her.” 

Ford snorted. “Yeah. I know.” 

“I don’t know why. He never had a problem with her dating before.” 

“Eh, you know how dads are. He’s just afraid I’d be a bad influence on ya.” 

David rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I think he’s just jealous because he’s too boring to get dates.” 

“Hey now, that ain’t nice to say ‘bout your daddy.” 

“But he is! All he ever wants to talk about is work and how I’m doing in school. I mean, I get that he’s a great doctor and he cares about me, but he’s kind of a loser.” 

Ford grunted. “You got no idea how lucky you are to have a daddy who cares about you.” 

David sighed. “I know. It’s just...it’s nice to have Aunt Claire staying with us. It gives him something to do besides worry about my grades.” 

Ford smiled and made a mental note to compliment Jack on raising such a sweet kid. 

“Mom thinks he’s gay and he just doesn’t know it,” David blurted suddenly. “Do you think that’s possible?” 

The smile fell off of Ford’s face and he stared at David in silent shock. 

David faltered. “I mean...how could somebody *not* know something like that?” 

Ford shook his head and coughed to cover a laugh. “You’d be surprised. Lotta people are scared of what’ll happen if they come out. I know I was.” 

David’s eyes widened and he turned just a little toward Ford, suddenly fascinated. “You’re gay?” 

“Bisexual. Guess that made it a little easier for people to accept me. But a good old Southern boy from Tennessee admittin’ he likes men?” He whistled. “Let’s just say there’s a good reason I put in for a transfer to L.A.” He cocked his head. “You ever talk to your daddy ‘bout this?” 

David scoffed. “Are you kidding? If anyone ever asks if he’s *thought* about dating, he changes the subject.” 

“Well, I don’t know ‘im as well as you do, but if I had ta guess, I’d say he’s scared too. He thinks people’d look at him different, treat him different.” He sighed. “He’s probably right.” 

“But that’s not *fair*. He can’t admit he’s gay, so he has to stay boring and alone his whole life?” 

Ford smiled sadly. “No one ever said life was fair, kid.” 

David’s attention wandered past Ford and he suddenly straightened in his seat, looking like he was getting ready to run at a moment’s notice. Ford followed his gaze to see Jack coming through the door into the waiting room. He hesitated when he saw Ford, but was too visibly weary to make much of a fuss. 

“How is she,” David asked as Jack approached. 

Jack sighed. “Tired. Look, it’s gonna be hours before she’s even ready to start pushing. I can take you home.” 

David fronwed. “But don’t you need to stay?” 

Ford jumped at the opportunity. “I can take ‘im home.” 

Jack looked at Ford like he’d barely noticed him before. “What are you doing here?” 

Ford smiled sweetly. “Just found out you’re gonna be an uncle. Thought I’d say congratulations.” 

Jack blinked at him for a moment, then turned back to David. “I can come back later. C’mon, we can get something to eat. They’ll page me if anything happens.” 

David hesitated, looking back and forth between the two adults. “Can he come with us?” 

Ford’s attention snapped to David, surprised, but the boy’s eyes were on his father. 

Annoyance flashed briefly across Jack’s face. “I’m sure James needs to get back to his partner.” 

Ford caught the pleading look David shot him and decided to play along. “I’m sure Miles is too busy flirtin’ with the nurses to notice I ain’t here. I can watch the kid if you have ta come back.” 

“Please,” David pressed before Jack could protest. 

Jack’s glare turned back to weariness as he shifted his gaze from Ford to David. “Didn’t I teach you not to talk to strangers?” 

“Yeah, but he’s a cop,” David countered quickly. “Cops don’t count as strangers.” 

Jack looked back at Ford, who just smiled, and sighed. “Fine.” 

******* 

“My favorite’s ‘Lord of the Flies’,” David said around a mouthful of pizza. 

“When did you read that,” Jack asked. 

David looked surprised by the question. “Last summer. Mom got it for me, remember?” 

Ford chuckled. “She know the bad guy’s name was Jack?” 

David’s eyes widened. “I forgot about that. I don’t think so. She never read it.” He plucked a stray piece of pepperoni from the box and popped it in his mouth. “So what’s your favorite book?” 

“’Of Mice and Men’,” Ford said without hesitation. 

David groaned. “Seriously? They made us read that in school. It was so *boring*.” 

Ford made a show of looking wounded. “Hey, mine’s about friendship and tolerance and tragedy. Yours is just about a bunch of people crashin’ on a deserted island and tryin’ to kill each other. Who wants to read a whole book about that?” He held back a smirk as David’s eyes went wide. “I’m just teasin’ ya.” 

David laughed and shook his head. 

“So, Doc. What’s your favorite book?” 

Jack looked startled. He’d spent most of the conversation sitting back, watching in amazement as David told Ford more in one conversation than he normally told Jack in a week. Not that Jack had had many full weeks with him lately. “Uh...’Alice in Wonderland’.” 

David looked horrified. “You’re kidding.” 

Jack shrugged. “It’s a classic.” 

“I’m sure your dad doesn’t have much time to read, what with savin’ lives and all. He read that to ya when you were little?” 

David frowned a little thoughtfully. “Yeah.” 

Ford smiled. “Well, there ya go then.” 

Jack blinked at him in surprise, still reeling from the turn of events that had brought this man he’d been carefully avoiding into his dining room. “I should get back to the hospital,” he announced. He started to push back from the table and hesitated. “You sure you’re okay here?” 

“I’ll be fine, Dad,” David said in that put-upon tone of voice only a teenager could ever truly achieve. “Go.” 

Jack stood and paused to kiss the top of his son’s head. “I’ll call you later,” he murmured. He gave Ford one last wary glance before he left. 

“You’re not interested in my mom, are you,” David asked the minute the front door shut. “You wanna date my dad.” 

Ford chewed the bite of pizza in his mouth slowly and swallowed. “Your momma’s a beautiful woman, but your daddy’s more interestin’.” 

David frowned. “He’d rather die alone than admit he’s gay and he’s been doing everything he can to avoid you. How does that make him interesting?” 

Ford smiled. “You’ll understand when you’re older.” 

David sighed. “Whatever. How do we get him to like you back?” 

“Ain’t no way to make people like you, kid,” Ford said with an amused chuckle. “It takes time. I’ve been chasin’ your dad for weeks. Even if I could wear him down and get ‘im to come outta that closet already, he’d probably still hate me.” He popped the last of his slice in his mouth. 

“He doesn’t hate you,” David blurted. “He says you drive him crazy, but he always gets this *look* when he talks about you. Mom says it’s lust.” 

Ford choked, swallowed the last of his mouthful of pizza and made a noise halfway between a cough and a laugh. “She did, huh?” He reached for his soda and took a healthy gulp. 

“She says he wants you – he just can’t admit it.” 

“Why’re you suddenly so hell bent on gettin’ us together?” 

A small blush rose to David’s cheeks and he looked down at the half-eaten slice on his plate, embarrassed. “Because I think you would be good for him. And because if you’re dating I’d get to hang out with you more.” 

Ford laughed. 

“I mean...if that’s okay?” 

Ford reached across the table to ruffle David’s hair a little. “Sure thing, kid.”


	5. Chapter 5

The tiny blonde-haired, blue-eyed Australian woman in the hospital bed bore no obvious familial resemblance to Jack or David. If he hadn’t known better, Ford might have assumed she was *Juliet’s* long lost sister. But the bone-weary exhaustion on her face at that moment matched Jack’s. 

“He’s so small,” David marveled, leaning over the bedrail to get a closer look at the newborn in her arms. 

“I know,” Claire cooed, her voice ragged and hoarse. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?” 

Jack had been staring at Ford since he and David had arrived, looking less than thrilled by his presence now that the crisis was over. Now he hauled himself from the chair beside his sister’s bed and crossed the room to where Ford hovered by the door. “Can I talk to you, Detective?” 

He was already nudging Ford toward the hallway, so it was obvious he didn’t really mean it as a request. 

Ford bit back a sigh. “Sure, Doc.” 

“What are you trying to do,” Jack asked the moment they were a safe distance from the room. “Use my son to get to me?” 

“Calm down. I ain’t usin’ anybody for anythin’. You needed help watchin’ him while you played Lamaze coach. Wasn’t any trouble. He’s a nice kid.” 

Jack sighed and massaged his forehead. 

Ford took in the exhausted slump of Jack’s body and the quiet, but still bustling activity of the hospital in the late evening and decided it was safe to press further. “He’s worried about you.” 

Jack’s hand fell away and his eyes locked on Ford’s face, confusion and concern momentarily thrusting aside the exhaustion. “He is?” 

“He’s afraid you’re gonna die alone and miserable.” 

Jack frowned. “He said that?” 

Ford shrugged. “Not in so many words, but yeah. And he asked if it’s possible you’re gay and you just don’t know it yet.” 

Jack’s jaw fell momentarily slack. Then his eyes flashed. “What did you say to him?” 

“Nothin’. He brought it up all by himself. Said he got the idea from his momma.” 

“Why would she...” 

“You ever ask yourself why she said no? Why she didn’t wanna marry you? She prob’ly knew all along. She was tryin’ to spare y’all the drama of you figurin’ it out after you were married.” 

“Stop,” Jack barked. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Ford frowned, noticing suddenly just how worn down Jack was starting to look just since they’d last seen each other at lunch. 

“We’ve been up since 5:30,” David had said before crashing on the couch and taking a long nap. “That’s when her labor started.” 

Ford did the math quickly. Sixteen hours and counting. No wonder the dark smudges beneath Jack’s eyes seemed to be growing by the minute. “Y’okay, Doc?” 

Jack’s eyes snapped open again and he glared at Ford. “You think you have me all figured out, don’t you Detective? You think you can con me into admitting something I’ve known for years?” 

“Now, hold on a minute...” Ford trailed off, staring at Jack as his words sank in. “What’d you say?” 

“You think you can use my family against me?” Jack continued, oblivious. “You think you can gather enough evidence to convince me my whole life has been a lie?” 

Ford took a step back, his hands coming up in front of him, the instincts that normally told him he was dealing with an unstable and potentially dangerous suspect kicking in. “You’re not makin’ any sense, Doc. How ‘bout I get us some coffee and we can sit down and talk about this?” 

“Fuck you,” Jack spit. “Stay away from my son.” 

He turned abruptly and started toward Claire’s room. He was barely halfway there before his legs buckled beneath him and he simply collapsed to the linoleum floor in a heap. 

“Jack!” Ford rushed to his side, kneeling on the floor and reaching to gently turn him over. “I need some help here,” he snapped at the closest nurse. “Jack, can you hear me?” He cradled Jack’s face between his palms, lightly slapping his cheek. Jack’s eyes fluttered and he mumbled something incoherent, but his head lolled, unresponsive. 

David emerged from Claire’s room just as a couple medical staff arrived. “Dad?” 

Another doctor arrived, dropping to her knees at Jack’s side – opposite Ford – and pressed her fingers to his neck. “Dr. Shephard, can you hear me?” 

Jack’s head dropped to one side as he lost consciousness completely. 

“Did he say or do anything before he collapsed,” she asked Ford while she pried Jack’s eyes open one by one and flashed a penlight in them. 

“No, he just...keeled over.” Ford reached for David, pulling him close but still holding him at bay. The poor kid looked frozen in panic. 

“When’s the last time he ate?” 

Ford and David stared at each other. They had been so deep in their conversation at lunch that they hadn’t paid attention to what Jack was doing. Ford had thrown away a half-eaten piece of pizza from his plate later. They had all been so focused on Claire and the baby that they hadn’t worried about Jack. “You see if he ate any more’n that half a slice of pizza?” 

David’s eyes widened. “No. Not since last night.” 

The doctor motioned to the nurses and other staff arriving to help. “Let’s get him started on an IV.” 

“Is he gonna be okay,” David asked as he and Ford were pushed aside and Jack was lifted onto a gurney. 

The doctor bent at the waist so her eyes were level with David’s. “He’ll be fine. He’s just dehydrated and probably exhausted.” She glanced at Claire’s room. “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll come get you once we have him settled.” 

Ford nodded and nudged David toward the room. “C’mon. Let’s get back to little sister – tell her what’s goin’ on.” 

******* 

Jack drifted slowly back to consciousness, moaning softly as a dull pain throbbed just behind his closed eyes. He heard the familiar sounds of machinery, the rustling of hospital bed sheets and the soft voices and quick footsteps of nurses and figured he was in recovery. His left arm felt like it had ice flowing beneath the skin. He wondered which nurse had neglected to stick the IV bag in the microwave before attaching it and whether or not they had done it accidentally. 

“You back with us now, Doc?” a voice murmured from nearby. 

Jack groaned and opened his eyes, flinching as the harsh fluorescent light increased his headache. A shadow moved over him, blocking the worst of the glare and he slowly focused on James Ford’s concerned face. 

“What happened?” His voice sounded weary even to his own ears. 

“You tried to go a whole day without eatin’, drinkin’ or doin’ anythin’ to take care of yourself for that matter.” 

Jack made a move to sit up. “David...” 

Ford pushed him back to the bed easily and held him there with a firm grip on his shoulder. “He’s fine. He’s keepin’ your sister company.” Ford frowned as Jack slumped back into the mattress, closing his eyes. “He was real worried ‘bout you though. Said he’s seen you work yourself to exhaustion before but it ain’t ever been this bad.” 

Jack groaned and opened his eyes again reluctantly. “Why are you still here?” 

Ford bit back a sigh and let go of Jack’s shoulder, clenching his hand into a fist. “’cause *I’m* worried ‘bout you. You scared the shit out of me back there.” 

“I’m fine,” Jack grumbled. 

“’course y’are.” 

Jack sighed. “What do you *want*, Detective?” 

“What I *want* is for you to stop treatin’ me like the bad guy here. You’re actin’ like I’m tryin’ to get you to join a damn cult.” He leaned in close, pressing his hands to the mattress on either side of Jack, making him flinch. “You think I’m tryin’ to get you to come outta that closet for *fun*?” 

“I...” 

“Shut up.” Jack’s eyes widened but Ford ignored him, barreling on. “I’m sick of your excuses. I know goddamn well you want me just as much as I want you. It’s written all over your face – anyone can see it. I don’t know what you think is gonna happen if you admit it but this denial shit is gettin’ old real quick.” 

Jack stared at him silently for a few moments. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost defeated. “I’m a doctor and I have a son. I have responsibilities...” 

“Oh, so you can’t have a life, is that it? Can’t do anythin’ *you* want?” 

Jack sighed. “I’m not *like* you, Detective.” 

“No kiddin’. I gave up this stubborn denial bullshit after high school. And guess what? Nobody treated me any different. Yer actin’ like you’re gonna have a big ol’ tattoo on your forehead that says “I like dick”. People might think they can smell a queer a mile away but they’re wrong. Nobody’d know the difference ‘les you told ‘em. And far as I can tell the only one you’d *have* to tell is your kid and trust me – he’d just be thrilled you ain’t a borin’ old man who’ll die alone ‘cause you can’t get a date.” 

“It’s not that easy,” Jack muttered. 

Ford leaned over the bed, cupping Jack’s face between his hands, forcing the man to look at him. “Sure it is, Doc. Y’just gotta be willin’ to take that first step.” 

Jack stared silently, his gaze flitting to Ford’s lips briefly before returning to his eyes. Ford took that as his cue – however unconscious. 

“If I kiss you, are you gonna try to hit me again?” 

Jack didn’t respond, but he didn’t try to pull away either. 

Ford decided it was as good a sign as any and pressed his lips to Jack’s gently, chastely. He let himself linger for a couple seconds, then leaned back, gauging Jack’s reaction. 

Jack’s expression hadn’t changed. He blinked once, then reached for his IV, the movement dislodging him from Ford’s grasp. 

Ford sighed and grabbed Jack’s hand before he could remove the needle. “Leave it. Nurse said you ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til this bag’s finished.” 

Jack looked at the half-empty IV bag hanging by the bed and sighed heavily, his head dropping back against the bed. 

Ford patted his shoulder. “I’ll go see if I can find you somethin’ to eat.” 

“I’m not hungry,” Jack mumbled. 

“Yeah, well, you’re eatin’ somethin’ anyway. And when that pretty doctor ‘t brought you in here gives the all clear I’m takin’ you and David home and you’re sleepin’ this off.” 

Jack’s face remained frustratingly blank. “You don’t need to do that. I can drive.” 

“No y’can’t. Doctor’s orders.” Ford smiled brightly. “No. Whaddya want from the vending machine?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much as I loved the finale and thought it was totally appropriate this story will henceforth assume that Daniel's "let's detonate a hydrogen bomb" plan worked and follow my crackpot version of quantum suicide theory. In other words, when the bomb went off, our characters were split into two different universes. One where the bomb didn't go off, and one where it did. Both universes are very real and neither is purgatory. 
> 
> I REPEAT: NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS IN THIS CHAPTER, I PROMISE IT IS ALL *REAL* AND CANNOT IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM BE THOUGHT OF AS THE AFTERLIFE.

By the time Ford pulled into Jack’s driveway, Jack had gone from blank passivity to sulking. 

“Is he gonna be okay,” David asked when Jack headed straight for his bedroom and shut the door without a word. 

“He’ll be fine,” Ford dismissed. “Just gotta make sure he gets some sleep and eats a decent breakfast in the morning.” 

David snorted. “Good luck with that. Sometimes I think he only eats breakfast at *all* if I’m here.” 

“Yeah, well. He’ll eat tomorrow if I gotta cuff him to the table and force feed him.” 

David stared at him, wide-eyed. 

“Figure a speech,” Ford added hastily. He hoped it wouldn’t actually come to that. 

“Oh.” 

“It’s prob’ly past your bedtime now...” 

David took the hint. “Yeah.” He turned and started toward his own bedroom, then hesitated. “There’s some blankets in the closet by the bathroom.” He gestured in that general direction. “I mean...if you’re going to be sleeping on the couch...” 

Ford smiled. “Thanks, kid.” 

David smiled back and disappeared into his room. 

Ford started toward the hall closet, then hesitated, looking toward Jack’s room. He sighed and changed direction, knocking softly on the closed door. No answer. He opened the door slowly and peaked tentatively into the room. Jack was laying on the bed, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling. Ford bit back a sigh and slipped into the room, closing the door behind him. 

“C’mon, doc. Y’ain’t goin’ to sleep like that.” He reached to remove Jack’s shoes, surprised when Jack let him do it without protest. He tugged at one of the cuffs of Jack’s dark socks. “C’mon. Strip.” 

Jack’s eyes snapped to Ford’s face but his expression remained unchanged. 

“I won’t look,” Ford promised. 

Jack didn’t move. “I don’t know how to do this,” he said softly. 

“Just do what you did when you got dressed this morning only backward.” 

Jack just continued to stare at him blankly. 

Ford sighed and gave in. “Do what?” 

Jack slowly climbed from the bed, standing awkwardly in front of Ford. He reached for Ford’s shoulder, fingertips gently grazing the material of the leather jacket he still wore. Then he suddenly leaned forward, tilting his head to one side, and pressed his lips to Ford’s. 

Ford grunted, surprised, and reached to cradle Jack’s head, steadying him. “That was nice,” he murmured when Jack pulled away a moment later. “Any particular reason?” 

Jack shook his head softly and stepped back, slipping from Ford’s grasp. 

Ford swallowed a groan and clenched his suddenly empty hands into fists, letting them fall to his sides. He watched Jack quickly and efficiently strip down to his boxers, unable to hold back a low whistle at the sight of the mass of colorful tattoos on Jack’s shoulder. He reached out impulsively to trace the design with one finger. “Well, well, well...looks like the good doctor’s got a wild streak.” 

Jack turned and Ford caught sight of the stars trailing down his arm. He gripped Jack’s elbow, turning his arm gently to get a better look. “Christ. These musta hurt.” He looked up at Jack and any other comment he may have had died on his tongue. Jack’s eyes had turned dark. He stared at Ford’s hand on his arm, his breathing deepening. And yet the muscles beneath Ford’s hand tensed, like Jack was fighting the instinct to yank his arm away from Ford’s grasp. 

Ford suddenly recalled something Jack had said to him after he’d met Juliet. ‘I will not let you hurt her...guys like you always do.’ 

And suddenly a piece of the puzzle clicked into place in his mind. “Somebody hurt you,” he murmured. 

Jack pulled his arm from Ford’s grasp and turned away. 

Ford watched dumbly as Jack pulled back the sheets and slipped into bed. He wanted to press further – demand an answer. But Jack was obviously not ready to talk to him yet and pushing the issue wouldn’t change that. Besides, Jack needed sleep at the moment. 

“I’ll be on the couch if you need anythin’,” he finally said. 

He hesitated a moment, making sure Jack was staying under the covers before leaving the room, turning off the light on his way out. 

*********** 

Ford tossed and turned for most of the night. He couldn’t stop thinking about this latest glimpse he’d gotten into Jack’s past. Was this why Jack was so afraid of admitting his sexuality? Not because of what he *thought* people might do, but because of what someone had already done? He wondered how long ago it had happened. If Juliet and David didn’t know – and they couldn’t or they wouldn’t still be theorizing about his sexuality - it must have been long ago. Or incredibly well hidden. 

When he finally slept, Ford’s dreams continued to torture him with possibilities. He saw a younger version of Jack being abused by a beefy guy who looked like a biker gang cliché. Jack, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, begged the guy to stop, but the guy just called him a “whiny little cock-sucking bitch” and hit him again. This led to the second dream, where an older Jack was being beaten by a gang of gay-bashers. This time Jack tried to fight back, but there were too many of them and he was quickly subdued. Every moan and cry of pain from Jack, every hateful name his abusers spat at him (faggot and homo being some of the nicer ones) felt like a punch in the gut to Ford. He wanted to shoot them all, get Jack away from them and take him someplace safe, make sure nobody could ever hurt him again. But he couldn’t even move. 

He woke covered in sweat, Jack’s cries still ringing in his ears. He took several deep breaths and ran his hands through his mussed hair. He told himself he was being ridiculous. He didn’t even *know* anything yet. But he couldn’t shake it. 

Then he heard it. A soft cry coming from Jack’s room. 

Ford was up and moving in the direction of the noise before he could even fully process the sound. 

“No,” Jack moaned as Ford pushed the door open. “I didn’t...” He cried out softly, his limbs thrashing beneath the rumpled covers. 

He sounded exactly as he had in Ford’s dream and Ford realized suddenly that that was because Jack’s cries had wormed their way into his own dreams, waking him. 

Ford sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to grip Jack’s shoulders, shaking him gently. “Doc? Jack? Wake up now.” 

Jack made a strangled noise and said something garbled and incoherent, writhing against Ford’s hold. Then he said something that made Ford’s blood run cold. “No...Sawyer...don’t...” 

Ford stared at Jack’s face, just barely able to make out the lines of pain in the faint light coming from the hallway. No. It couldn’t be. He renewed his efforts to wake Jack, shaking him a little harder, calling a little louder. “Jack!” 

Jack’s eyes snapped open and he gasped, slowly focusing on the shadowy figure hovering over him. 

“It’s okay, Doc. You were havin’ a bad dream.” Ford impulsively brushed down a lock of Jack’s hair that had been tousled by all of his thrashing. “You’re safe now.” 

Jack made a strangled noise and slapped Ford’s hand away clumsily, scrambling upright, trying to put distance between them – still obviously deep in thrall of his dream. 

“Hey, hey, settle down. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” 

Jack just pressed a hand to his throat and took several deep, shaky breaths, looking warily at Ford as he slowly came back to reality. 

Ford reached out to place a tentative hand on Jack’s arm. “It’s all right now. Easy.” 

Jack nodded silently, slowly calming. 

“I’ll get you some water.” 

Ford was off the bed and out of the room before Jack could respond one way or another. 

‘It’s just a coincidence,’ he told himself as he poured a glass of water. ‘Lots of people’re named Sawyer. There’s no way it’s the same guy.’ 

Jack had calmed down by the time Ford returned. “Thank you,” he murmured as he took the glass of water Ford offered. He drank half of it before speaking again, his voice growing steadier. “Is David still asleep?” 

Ford had completely forgotten about the teenager in all the commotion. “Uh, I guess so. You want me to check on ‘im?” 

“No. He’s probably sleeping.” He set the glass down on the bedside table. “I always talk in my sleep. It doesn’t bother him anymore.” 

Ford huffed. “You call that *talkin’*? It sounded like somebody was torturin’ you.” 

Jack flinched. “Sorry.” 

Ford ducked his head until he caught Jack’s wandering gaze. “You wanna talk about it?” 

Jack snorted. “Not really.” 

“Want me to sleep in here?” 

Jack blinked at him incredulously. 

“I left my gun under the couch. I could go get it if it’d make you feel safer.” 

“No,” Jack muttered. “I’m fine.” 

Ford rested a hand on Jack’s arm, feeling the muscles tense. “You sure?” 

Jack shivered slightly and brushed Ford’s hand away. “Don’t...” 

Ford pulled his hand back, clenching it into a fist. He wanted to push harder, demand answers, force Jack to tell him what had happened. He thought maybe he needed to break Jack, get him to relive whatever painful memory was haunting him. *Then* maybe he could help Jack get past it. But not tonight. Jack needed to rest. His body needed to recover from the stress of the past day. “You think you c’n go back to sleep?” 

Jack nodded and Ford stood up, giving him room to slide back beneath the mussed covers. 

Ford reached to smooth the covers over Jack, then caught himself, his hand hovering a moment in the air before falling back to his side. “Goodnight, Doc.” 

Jack grunted and closed his eyes. 

Ford backed out of the room and gently closed the door. He hesitated a moment in the hallway, then sighed and headed back to the couch.


	7. Chapter 7

“Who’s Sawyer,” Ford asked lightly as Jack finished the plate of eggs Ford had placed in front of him. 

Jack froze mid-chew. “What?” 

Ford sipped his coffee and glanced at David, who looked up from his own plate with mild curiosity. “You said his name in your sleep.” 

Jack cleared his throat and stared down at his breakfast. “I don’t remember.” 

“You’re lyin’,” Ford said in an even tone – not confrontational, simply stating a fact. “You know ‘im?” 

“He’s said that name in his sleep before,” David piped up. 

“David,” Jack warned, shaking his head. 

“Who is he,” Ford pressed. “He the guy’t hurt you?” 

Jack’s hand clenched around his fork and he narrowed his eyes. “Nobody hurt me, Detective. It was just a dream.” 

“Why don’t I believe you?” 

Jack sighed heavily. “I really don’t care what you believe.” He finished the last bite of his eggs and let the fork clatter to the plate. Then he turned to David, dismissing Ford. “Did you finish your homework?” 

Ford ignored the brush-off. “Here’s the problem, Doc. There’s this guy I’ve been tryin’ to track down for a long time. Name’s Sawyer too. It’s prob’ly just a coincidence but if you know anythin’...” 

“I don’t,” Jack interrupted shortly. “It’s not him.” 

Ford’s eyebrows went up. “Now how would you know that? I ain’t even told you what he done.” 

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not him.” Jack focused his attention on David again, gesturing to his empty plate, moving to stand up. “Are you finished?” 

“What makes you so sure...” 

Jack turned to Ford abruptly, the hand he’d been gesturing with crashing into the table loudly, making both Ford and David jump. “Because *you’re* Sawyer,” he snapped. 

Ford stared at him, stunned into silence. 

Jack slumped back into his seat, massaging his forehead. “David, go to your room,” he said with measured calm. 

David didn’t move, looking back and forth between the two men worriedly. 

“It’s okay,” Ford murmured, nodding toward him. “Go on.” 

David hesitated a while longer, then slowly stood and ducked from the room. 

“You dream about me hurtin’ you,” Ford asked quietly. An image from his dreams sprang into his mind, but this time it was his own hands beating Jack, making him bleed and cry out in pain. It made Ford feel sick. 

When Jack’s eyes met his again they were damp with unshed tears. “I dream about you killing me,” he said softly. 

Ford sat dumbstruck as Jack gathered the empty plates and carried them into the kitchen. Ford followed a few seconds later, watching Jack load the dishes into the dishwasher with stiff movements. “You wanna talk about it?” 

Jack closed the dishwasher and stood with his back to the counter, folding his arms across his chest. “They started when I started treating your partner,” he finally said hesitantly. “At first they were just normal dreams, but...they started getting violent.” He shook his head. “Some of the details change, but it always ends the same way. It always ends with me flat on my back and your hands wrapped around my neck.” 

Ford remembered the look of terror on Jack’s face when he’d been shaken from his nightmares. The way he had fought to get away from Ford...the way he’d clutched unconsciously at his throat. “Jesus...” 

“I keep telling myself they’re just dreams, but that one feels so real. It’s like it’s a *memory*.” Jack shook his head and uncurled one arm, reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It’s ridiculous, I know, but...I think my instincts are warning me to stay away from you.” 

Ford crossed the room slowly, keeping his eyes on Jack, watching how he shifted his body nervously, eyes darting around the room as if tracing possible escape routes. He was telling the truth, if only partially. Ford pressed himself against Jack, trapping him against the counter, feeling him stiffen and try to flinch back. 

“Don’t,” Jack gasped as Ford’s hand slipped behind his neck, cradling his head. 

“Shh...” Ford pressed a gentle kiss to his chin, brushing the stubble Jack hadn’t shaved that morning. “I won’t hurt you.” He ducked his head a little to kiss Jack’s neck, feeling the man’s pulse throb wildly beneath his lips. 

“You won’t *kill* me,” Jack corrected, his eyes tightly closed, as if he could block out what Ford was doing to him, pretend it wasn’t affecting him. 

Ford brushed the fingers of his free hand along Jack’s arm, where his tattoo disappeared beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. “What’re you so scared of,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to the tender skin beneath Jack’s ear. 

“I...” Jack trailed off, his mouth going dry. A tiny whimper escaped his throat as Ford’s lips finally covered his own, tongue gently coaxing his mouth open and plunging inside. 

Ford felt Jack’s resistance weakening, felt that moment of extra give and pressed closer, tilting his head, deepening the kiss. He shifted until the full length of his body pressed against Jack’s, groaning into Jack’s mouth as he felt his blatant arousal. 

Jack struggled suddenly, shoving Ford back. “Stop,” he gasped, wrenching himself from Ford’s grasp and staggering to one side, just out of reach, running a trembling hand through his hair. 

Ford sighed. “I know you want this’s much’s I do, Doc. Why’re you fightin’ so hard?” 

Jack shook his head, letting out a humorless laugh. “You don’t *want* me. You want to *fuck* me. You want to force me to admit that I’m gay and then you’ll leave me to deal with the fallout.” He spun on Ford, his eyes bright with angry tears. “You may not *kill* me, but you will destroy me.” 

“Fallout? What d’you think is gonna happen if you come out? You think those other doctors you work with’re gonna take you out back and stone you to death? This’s the 21st century for chrissakes.” 

“You don’t understand...” 

“Oh, I don’t understand? I grew up in fuckin’ *Tennessee*. I understand plenty. But this’s California. You can’t spit in a crowd without hittin’ a queer. Sides, only people who gotta know are your family and some of ‘em obviously know it already. You think I tell everyone I’m bi? ‘You have the right to remain silent and by the way I like to suck dick’? My partner knows. A couple past boyfriends know. Everyone else can mind their own damned business.” 

Jack shook his head and stared at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. 

“Dad?” 

Jack turned toward the kitchen door, startled to find David standing awkwardly cradling Jack’s cell phone in his hands. 

“The hospital just called. Aunt Claire’s ready to come home.” 

Ford recovered first, breaking the awkward silence and brushing past David to go search for his car keys. “I’ll drive.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Daniel has a theory about dreams.” 

Ford glanced at David, twisted half-sideways in the passenger seat. “Who the hell’s Daniel?” 

“His piano teacher,” Jack answered from the back seat. Ford caught him rolling his eyes in the rear view mirror. 

“He says there’s an infinite number of parallel universes, right? And they’re all different in some way, like you could be a cop in one and a criminal in another. He thinks sometimes when you dream, you *see* those other universes.” 

Ford frowned. “So you think your dad is seein’ me kill him in another universe?” 

“Not *you*,” David corrected. “Some other version of you. He calls you Sawyer...maybe that’s your name there.” 

Ford snorted. “This Daniel guy...he some sorta new age hippee?” 

David flustered. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, if there are multiple universes and multiple versions of you in those universes, your memories could – I don’t know – get mixed up somehow with their memories.” 

Ford laughed. “Well, I don’t dream much, but believe me the dreams I’ve had weren’t no *memories*. Least not of anythin’ that ain’t happened to me in *this* universe.” He thought of a recent dream he’d had featuring Jack handcuffed to the bars of his precinct’s holding cell, moaning like a porn star as Ford fucked him. Pure wishful fantasy, though the idea of recreating *some* elements of it was appealing. “’sides, why would I want to kill your dad?” 

David shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he was trying to kill you in that universe.” 

Ford glanced at Jack in the rearview mirror again. He wasn’t looking at either of them – his eyes fixed on something outside the window. Ford tried to imagine being so enraged that he could take the man’s life, but it was impossible. Jack was frustrating and yes, Ford could readily imagine wanting to smack him upside the head, but the idea of wrapping his hands around Jack’s neck and squeezing until the life left his warm, gentle eyes made Ford sick. And the thought of Jack trying to kill him seemed even more ridiculous – parallel universe or no. “I could never hurt your daddy,” he said softly. 

Jack’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror for a moment, then slid away quickly. “Pull in here,” he directed as they arrived at the hospital. 

Ford pulled up to the door he’d indicated and put the car in park. “Guess I’ll see you Monday then?” 

Jack nodded, already opening his door. “C’mon, David.” 

David climbed from the car reluctantly and followed his father into the hospital entrance. 

Ford sighed, then headed toward the parking garage. Might as well check in with Miles as long as he was there. 

********* 

Ford had just reached the door to his apartment that evening when his phone rang. He tucked the six pack he’d just bought on his way home under his arm and fished the phone from his pocket. “Ford.” 

“Uh...it’s Jack,” the voice on the other end said awkwardly. 

Ford froze, his key halfway into the lock, and smiled. “Doc?” 

“David thinks he may have left his iPod in your car.” 

Ford’s smile faltered. “Oh...” He finished unlocking the door and pushed it open, telling himself it was ridiculous to think Jack would call him for social reasons. “Okay, well...I can drop by your office on Monday after work...” 

“Actually...do you have plans for dinner?” 

“Dinner,” Ford repeated, kicking the door shut behind him. 

Jack sighed. “Claire is helping me make dinner and she insists I should invite you.” 

Ford’s lips twitched. “Claire.” 

“Yeah, but if you’re busy...” 

“No,” Ford interrupted before Jack had a chance to talk himself out of it. “I ain’t busy. What time do you want me there?”


	9. Chapter 9

Ford brought the six pack with him as a peace offering even though he and Jack were the only ones who could drink it. But he thought maybe the alcohol could finally loosen Jack up. 

Claire proved to be as easy to talk to as David, if still a bit dopey from pain meds. Ford found himself wondering if Jack could have been just as warm and friendly had their relationship started on better terms. ‘He’d still be in the closet,’ he told himself dismissively. ‘And he’d still think I’m dangerous.’ 

“How are you feeling,” Jack asked Claire for possibly the twentieth time. Ford thought he understood now how Jack could have driven himself beyond his limits helping her through childbirth. Jack was basically the only family she had left in the world and Jack was clearly not the sort of person who took the responsibility that came with such a title lightly. 

Claire hummed absently, one hand rocking the car seat she had bundled Aaron in while they ate. “Tired,” she admitted. 

“You should go to bed then. We’ll try to keep it down.” 

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” she said quickly, waving her free hand dismissively. 

“First rule of caring for infants – you sleep when they sleep.” Jack waved at Aaron. “Trust me.” 

She looked at Aaron, obviously not feeling entirely comfortable about leaving the table – and their guest – so soon after eating, but knowing Jack was right. “Are you sure?” 

“Go right ahead, Mamacita,” Ford smiled. “I’ll keep an eye on these two.” 

She smiled tiredly at him and stood up. “It was nice to meet you, James.” 

He tipped his mostly empty beer can at her. “Likewise.” 

“Did you do your homework,” Jack asked as Claire disappeared into her bedroom. 

David rolled his eyes. “Yes.” 

“All of it?” 

“Tomorrow’s Sunday.” 

“Yes, and your mother is picking you up tomorrow night and you promised you’d have it all done by then.” 

David looked at Ford, who shrugged. He may have liked the kid, but he wasn’t about to encourage him to blow off school work and disobey his parents. 

“Fine,” David groaned, pushing back from the table. 

“And keep the music down so Aunt Claire can sleep,” Jack added. 

David fished the iPod Ford had returned from his pocket and waved it at Jack pointedly before trudging toward his bedroom. 

“Thanks for bringing that back,” Jack said, turning to Ford. 

“No problem.” 

Ford wasn’t about to tell Jack but he was pretty sure David had lost the thing purposely. For one thing, he had found it neatly slipped between the door and the passenger seat, earphones still wrapped around it for safekeeping. The look on David’s face when Ford had handed it to him was what really convinced him though. The kid had feigned relief at locating the missing iPod, but it was obvious he’d known exactly where it was all along. The two rounds of poker he’d played with the kid while they were waiting for news on Claire’s delivery had been more than enough to teach him that, while the kid was surprisingly good at the game, he couldn’t bluff convincingly. 

Ford wondered if the kid and Claire were working together, conspiring to get him and Jack together. He appreciated the effort – and David’s obvious concern for Jack – but he was beginning to think it was useless. Not that he would stop trying. He was too stubborn for that. But he could see that pushing harder would only make Jack retreat further into his protective shell. It would have been difficult enough had he simply been a closet case, but he was a closet case who so firmly believed that Ford was a potentially dangerous person to be with that even his dreams were warning him to stay away. The fact that Ford had sworn to protect people like him made little difference when Jack could readily imagine Ford murdering him in a fit of rage. 

Ford finished the last swig of beer and set the empty can down with a sigh. “Guess I better get goin’ then.” 

“Do you need me to call a cab?” 

Ford frowned at him. “What for?” 

Jack raised his eyebrows and pointed to the three empty beer cans on the table near Ford’s plate. 

Ford snorted. “I ain’t exactly a lightweight, Doc.” 

“No, but you’re buzzed. Would you let me drive after drinking that much alcohol, Detective?” He stressed that last word pointedly. 

Ford gestured to the can closest to Jack’s hand. “You had just as much’s me.” 

“Which is why I’m not offering to drive you home.” 

The image of Jack in handcuffs sprang to Ford’s mind again, but he pushed it aside along with the suggestive joke involving taking Jack downtown and doing a strip search. “Well I ain’t callin’ a cab all the way out here this time a night. You know how much that’d cost? No thanks. Just point me to the nearest bus stop and I’ll walk.” 

“That’s a five mile walk across the freeway.” 

Ford groaned. “Fuckin’ suburbs.” 

Jack chuckled softly and Ford couldn’t help but smile. He took in the slight flush in Jack’s cheeks, the fluid ease of his smile, and didn’t regret bringing the alcohol for a moment. 

“Well...I guess you could always sleep on the couch again. As long as you don’t mind being woken up every couple hours by a crying baby.” 

Ford hesitated. “You sure?” 

Jack shrugged. “Like David said, tomorrow’s Sunday. Neither of us has to work.” 

Ford settled back into his chair. “’f I didn’t know any better I’d think you planned this whole thing,” he teased. “Invite me over for dinner, get me drunk...” 

“Technically, you got *me* drunk. And it wasn’t my idea. This is obviously some plot David came up with to get us together.” 

Ford blinked at him, surprised. He knew Jack was smart, but reading people’s intentions didn’t seem to be his strong suit. “What makes you say that?” 

Jack chuckled. “Because he’s always been a terrible liar.” 

“So if you knew he was up to somethin’, why’d you go along with it?” 

“I don’t know. Morbid curiosity maybe. And because if Juliet found out he’d ‘lost’ a four-hundred-dollar iPod, she’d ground him for a month.” 

“Should’ve let her. Teach him a lesson.” 

Jack shrugged. “He meant well.” 

“That gonna be your excuse when he knocks over a liquor store for money to buy his momma somethin’ pretty?” 

Jack laughed. “Trust me, he won’t.” 

Ford smiled. “Nah. He’s a good kid. You did good raisin’ him.” 

“Well, I can’t take much credit for that. Juliet is a pretty amazing mom.” 

Ford couldn’t stop staring at Jack. The man looked so different when he was relaxed and happy. Ford couldn’t ignore the giddy, warm feeling that came over him whenever he said something that made Jack smile. 

“You got any idea how beautiful you are?” The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about them. 

Jack snorted. “You’re drunk.” 

“Maybe a little,” Ford shrugged. “But that don’t make it any less true.” 

Jack sighed. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?” 

“You gonna deny part of you wants me just’s much’s I want you?” 

Jack shook his head. “Why me? Guys like you could probably walk into any bar and have women – or men – hanging all over you in minutes.” 

Ford laughed. “Well. Nice’s that sounds, I ain’t interested in a one night stand.” 

“What are you interested in,” Jack asked softly. 

Ford studied Jack’s face and body language for a minute. He seemed happy and relaxed still – not confrontational, merely curious. “I don’t know yet,” Ford said carefully. “Right now I guess I’m just hopin’ you’ll give me a second chance.” 

Jack nodded thoughtfully and stared at his hands, folded in his lap. 

“But for now I c’n just crash on your couch ‘til the alcohol wears off. What’ll that take? Couple hours? I can be outta your hair before mornin’.” 

“No. You can stay for breakfast.” 

Ford hesitated. “You sure?” 

Jack shrugged. “You already know your way around the kitchen. Maybe you can help me cook.” 

Ford chuckled. “Okay. Deal.”


	10. Chapter 10

“You learn to bluff like that in Phuket?” 

Jack smiled in a way Ford was certain was meant to be flirtatious and sipped at his glass of scotch. 

“That where you got those tats?” 

Jack leaned closer, fixing Ford with a heated stare. When he spoke, his voice was husky and full of dark promise. “Call or fold, James.” 

The next thing Ford knew he was in Jack’s office, plastered to the closed door, Jack’s hands eagerly tugging at his clothes. Ford gripped the lapels of Jack’s lab coat, tugging him closer, shuddering as Jack attacked his neck with lips, tongue and teeth. Ford closed his eyes and groaned, arching his back from the door, pressing his body flush with Jack’s. 

“Sawyer,” Jack gasped in his ear. 

Ford frowned and tried to open his eyes as Jack’s hands fell away suddenly. All he saw was blackness. 

“Sawyer,” Jack said again, his voice laden with worry this time. 

Ford yelped as firey pain erupted in his shoulder, radiating outward. 

“It’s okay,” Jack soothed and Ford felt his hands return, cool and steady on his face, brushing his hair back gently. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

Ford lunged upright, blindly shoving Jack away from him and suddenly he was able to open his eyes. He had seconds to take in the bizarre jungle surroundings and even more bizarre sight of Jack dressed in an ugly brown blood-stained jumpsuit, his face a mass of bruises and open cuts, before Jack lunged at him, his fist connecting with Ford’s jaw. Ford staggered and lost his balance, collapsing to the ground. He could feel blood dripping down the side of his face, filling his mouth. 

“Sawyer please,” Jack begged wearily, looming over Ford. “Just listen to me...” 

Rage washed over Ford. ‘You will destroy me,’ he thought feverishly. ‘If I don’t destroy you first.’ He felt his fingers close around something solid, wooden, and swung it at Jack, striking his temple. 

Jack staggered for a moment, dazed, then his legs buckled and he slumped to the ground. 

Ford launched himself at the fallen man, straddling his chest, wrapping his hands around Jack’s throat. Jack spluttered and clawed weakly at his hands, his energy too depleted to really dislodge Ford. 

“Will you stop,” he growled. 

“Ngah...” Jack gasped and gurgled helplessly. 

Ford squeezed tighter. “Will you stop,” he shouted. He didn’t want to kill Jack, he told himself, but he would if he had to. ‘Otherwise he’ll kill us all.’ 

“James!” 

Ford looked up, startled, as a very dirty Juliet emerged from the tree line, marching toward them. He heard Jack gasp as his grip loosened. 

“James.” 

Ford’s eyes snapped open. He was in a bed and Jack was hovering over him, smiling. Ford’s eyes darted to the clock by the bed and he groaned. “I’m late for work.” 

Jack’s hand smoothed across his bare chest. “No, you’re not. I called the chief. Told him you have a bad case of food poisoning. Then I called the hospital and told them I needed to stay home to take care of you.” 

Ford blinked at him in surprise. “Since when do you play hooky?” 

Jack smiled radiantly, making Ford’s chest constrict. 

‘God, he’s beautiful.’ 

“Since my boyfriend is turning forty this weekend,” Jack said, kissing him sweetly. “I thought maybe we could start celebrating early.” His fingers played teasingly across Ford’s abdomen, tracing the waist band of his boxers. 

Ford growled. “C’mere.” He dragged Jack closer and kissed him hungrily. 

A loud, steady beeping sound came from the next room and Jack groaned, reluctantly detangling himself from Ford and trudging from the room. “I’ll get it,” he muttered. 

Ford glowered at the ceiling. “Damn computer.” 

The beeping stopped and Ford heard a muffled thump. 

“You okay in there, Doc?” 

His only answer was another thump, followed by a soft groan. 

Ford slipped out of bed and stepped out into the hall, calling Jack’s name warily. 

He turned at the end of the hallway and ran right into a wall of steel prison bars. The oddity of their presence didn’t bother him – he was too focused on the scene playing out on the other side of the bars. Two goons held up an already beaten and bloodied Jack while the third drove his fist into the doctor’s exposed abdomen. Jack cried out, his head lolling, sagging in the men’s firm hold. 

Ford pounded on the bars. “Hey! Let ‘im go, you son of a bitch!” 

The head goon stopped punching Jack and turned to Ford, his face still hidden by the shadows. “Do you love him,” he growled. 

Ford sputtered. “What?” 

The man threw his fist into Jack’s side and Ford swore he could hear ribs breaking. Jack moaned pitifully. 

“Yes, okay? Goddamnit, yes, I love him! Just stop fuckin’ hurtin’ ‘im!” 

A scream burbled up in his throat as the goon ignored him, continuing his steady blows. Ford spun around with the half-formed thought that he could find his gun and put a stop to this but he just ran into another wall of steel. He was trapped. He turned back and gripped the bars standing between him and the goons abusing his lover. “I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch,” he shouted, pushing and pulling ineffectively in a helpless rage. “I’ll fuckin’ KILL YOU!” 

He saw a brief flash of metal in the lead goon’s hand as it arced toward Jack. 

“NO! JACK!” 

Jack cried out, struggling feebly against the men holding him up as the knife sank into his abdomen. The goons let him go then, taking off down the alleyway with seemingly inhuman speed as his body crumpled to the ground like a broken doll. 

The bars gave way beneath Ford’s hands in the same instant, a hidden door opening slowly with a groan of metal. 

Ford spared a glance in the direction the men had gone. The police officer in him demanded he go after them. But he wasn’t really concerned about catching them anymore. 

He knelt beside Jack, gently turning him over. “It’s me, sweetheart,” he choked as Jack tried weakly to fight him off. It was bad. There was so much blood he couldn’t say for certain where it was coming from, but most of it seemed to be pooling around the knife wound in his side. 

“Help,” Ford shouted into the darkness surrounding them, even though he knew no one would respond. “Somebody help me!” 

He lifted Jack’s upper body from the ground, cradling him to his chest, feeling him struggle to breathe. “I’m here baby. Hold on.” 

Jack fought to look at him through eyes that were almost completely swollen shut. “Love...you...” he gasped. The effort of speaking made him cough and his fingers clutched at Ford’s sleeve, tiny whimpers escaping his lips as pain wracked his broken body. 

Ford shook his head, his eyes blurring with tears, his voice breaking. “No. Don’t you leave me!” 

“James...” Jack’s eyes drifted closed. 

“No! Jack...” Ford’s arms tightened around Jack, as if he could keep him tethered to life through sheer will alone. He brushed his lips to Jack’s, tasting blood. “Don’t you leave me,” he whimpered. “Jack...” 

“James.” The name left Jack’s lips on a faint exhale, barely audible and his body went utterly still in Ford’s arms. 

The scream that had been building in Ford’s chest finally burst from his lips – an incoherent, gut-wrenching wail of anguish. He thought he heard a voice say his name, but he was too wrapped up in his grief to care. He clutched Jack’s limp body to his chest and sobbed. 

“James!” 

Ford gasped as the world shifted abruptly and he found himself flat on his back. He blinked up at the dark shadow hovering over him. 

“Easy,” the shadow murmured. “It’s okay.” 

‘Jack,’ his mind registered. He lurched upright and pulled Jack into a crushing embrace. ‘It was only a dream.’ 

The realization did nothing to stop the flood of emotion that swept over him. He let out a choked sob and buried his face in Jack’s neck. 

Jack stiffened instinctively as Ford wrapped him in a desperate embrace, but when he felt the tears dampening the collar of his T-shirt he relaxed, his hands coming up to pat Ford’s back. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re okay now.” 

Ford noted absently how much the real Jack sounded like the Jack in his dreams – that soothing voice comforting him from the darkness – and unconsciously clutched him tighter. 

“Dad,” a sleepy voice called from the doorway. 

“It’s okay, David,” Jack said gently, keeping his voice low in case Claire and Aaron were still asleep. “Go back to bed.” 

Ford concentrated on the sound of Jack’s breathing in the silence that followed, waiting for the dream to loosen its hold on him. “I was too late,” he mumbled. 

“What?” 

“I couldn’t protect you. Couldn’t save you.” 

Jack’s hands halted their awkward patting motions on Ford’s back. “You mean in your dream?” 

Ford sat up straight, swiping a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. He reached for Jack’s face, cupping his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, reassuring himself that Jack was really real – alive. “You were dyin’ in my arms,” he murmured, feeling a sickening twisting in his gut just at the memory. 

Jack stared at him, his expression caught somewhere between wariness and concern. “It’s okay,” he finally said hesitantly. “It was just a dream.” 

“Yeah.” Ford took a deep breath. “Felt so real...” He let his hands fall from Jack’s face. “Sorry...didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“It’s okay,” Jack said quickly. He rubbed his face wearily and cleared his throat. “Do you, uh...do you need anything? Water? Aspirin?” 

“Water’d be good. Thanks.” 

Jack nodded and disappeared silently into the kitchen. 

Ford freed his legs from the tangled blankets and sat up, shivering slightly as his bare feet touched the cool wood floor. He leaned his elbows on his knees and massaged his forehead. 

By the time Jack returned with the water, the last of the shudders seemed to have left him. “Thanks,” he murmured, accepting the glass. 

Jack sat beside him, mirroring his posture with forearms braced on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Ford blew out a breath. “Not much to tell. Bunch a guys beat you, stabbed you...left you to die in my arms. I couldn’t stop ‘em.” 

“Do you know who they were? Why they were doing it?” 

Ford shook his head. “They just kept askin’ ‘do you love him’.” 

Jack sucked in a surprised breath. 

“I said yes. Begged ‘em to stop. Didn’t matter. Hell, maybe that just made it worse. I don’t know.” Ford toyed absently with the half-empty glass in his hands, swirling the water in gentle circles. “’s just a stupid dream, I know, but...it ain’t the first one. I seen guys hurtin’ you before.” 

Jack was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, tentative. “I had this roommate in college. Really smart kid. He would’ve made a brilliant doctor. He was really good looking too. Had an amazing sense of humor...basically he had every girl in premed clamoring for a date. He came out of the closet about halfway through freshman year.” Jack took a deep breath. “A year later, some frat boys cornered him in a back alley. They beat him – badly – and...violated him with a beer bottle. They carved the word ‘fag’ in his arm with a switchblade. Right here.” Jack ran his hand along the inside of his arm, right over the brightly colored stars inked into his skin. Ford suddenly thought he understood what they really meant to Jack. “He survived, but he was never the same after that. He killed himself...about a week into senior year.” 

“Jesus,” Ford breathed. 

Jack barreled on, his eyes shining with moisture in the dim light spilling from the lamp across the room. “You asked me if somebody had hurt me. The answer is no. But every time I try to let myself fall for you even a little I think about him and I think about that dream – the look in your eyes while you’re choking me – and...I can’t.” 

Throughout his story, Ford sat perfectly still, as if afraid of interrupting. Somehow he had finally broken through Jack’s defenses, gotten him to open up about a painful, emotional part of his life. Now he reached tentatively for Jack’s hand, gripping it gently, wanting to encourage him – reward him for trusting Ford with this piece of himself – without breaking this new, fragile connection they’d made by pushing too hard. “What was his name,” he asked softly. 

“Darryl.” Jack’s voice was distant, as if his mind was miles away. 

Ford let the fingers of his other hand gently brush against the tattoos on the inside of Jack’s arm. “You loved him.” 

Jack shook his head, a tear breaking free and spilling down his cheek. “He was my friend. We fooled around a couple times, but...I was straight. At least I thought I was. We grew apart. I was already dating Juliet when he died. I didn’t know how to help him after the assault. I didn’t know how to *be there* for him. I was scared, I guess. 

Ford nodded. “So these are for him,” he asked, stroking the stars on Jack’s arm pointedly. 

Jack closed his eyes, his forehead pinching slightly, pained. He nodded. 

Ford let go of Jack’s hand and gently turned his arm, exposing the tattoos. He studied them for a moment, letting the full weight of their meaning sink in. Then he pressed a gossamer kiss to one of the smallest stars just above his inner elbow. 

Jack let out a tiny gasp and held perfectly still, barely breathing, as Ford kissed each of the tiny stars one by one. The gesture was more loving and reverent than sexual. It was almost like Ford was apologizing for something he hadn’t even known about until now. Jack’s heart beat a little faster. Despite all the resistance he tried to put up, Ford could somehow always get his traitorous body to react to his advances. “Stop,” he pleaded, his voice barely louder than a breath. Weak. 

Ford ignored the half-hearted plea, instead leaning closer to press a kiss to Jack’s shoulder, and another to his chin. “It’s okay,” he murmured. He reached up to cradle Jack’s face between his palms and looked deep into his eyes, silently seeking permission. Then he leaned in and brushed his lips to Jack’s, softly – experimentally. 

Jack didn’t react at first. But when Ford gently nipped at his bottom lip, coaxing him to participate, he felt his already weak resistance crack. He leaned into the kiss, opening his mouth wider, whimpering as Ford’s tongue tangled with his own. 

He pulled back after a minute, panting, pressing a hand to Ford’s chest to keep him at bay. “No...I can’t.” 

“I won’t hurt you,” Ford vowed, letting his hand drift downward, his thumb absently stroking Jack’s throat. He froze as the movement brought another image from his dream tumbling to the forefront of his mind. “That dream you keep havin’...’bout me killin’ you...you wearin’ some sorta ugly brown jumpsuit?” 

Jack frowned. “Yeah...” 

“Funny little white logo on the pocket with your name under it?” 

Jack’s mouth fell open slightly in surprise. “How...” 

“I had that dream too.” 

Jack stared at him silently for several long moments, then slowly reached up to draw Ford’s hand from his neck and stood, heading for the hallway back to his bedroom. 

Ford cursed under his breath and hurried after him. “Wait, Doc...” He reached for Jack’s wrist, but Jack shook him off. 

“Don’t.” 

“Jack, please...” 

Jack spun on him suddenly, making Ford stop short to avoid colliding into him. “Do you really expect me to believe that you just happened to have the same dream that I told you about two days ago?” 

Ford spluttered. “Why ‘n the hell would I lie ‘bout that?” 

“How would I know? Maybe you think I’m stupid enough to let you sleep with me if you can convince me that you weren’t trying to kill me in that dream.” 

“I wasn’t tryin’ to kill you.” 

Jack scoffed and started to turn his back. 

“I was tryin’ to stop you.” 

Jack shook his head, his eyes narrowing skeptically. “Stop me. Stop me from doing what?” 

“I don’t know,” Ford admitted. “I just know I was willin’ to kill you if it came down to it, but I was hopin’ like hell I wouldn’t have to.” 

Jack stared at him, stunned. 

Both men jumped when the door further down the hall opened and Claire peered out. 

“What’s going on,” she asked groggily. 

“It’s okay, Claire. Go back to bed,” Jack said apologetically. 

Claire blinked at him for a few seconds longer, but was obviously too tired to argue. She backed into the room and closed the door softly. 

Jack grabbed Ford by the arm and shoved him into his bedroom, closing the door. He stood with his hands on his hips, eyeing Ford warily. “You’re serious,” he said, his voice flat. 

“Yeah. We were in some sorta jungle. We were fightin’.” He frowned, straining to recall the details of the already fuzzy dream. “I was beggin’ you to stop doin’...somethin’. Don’t know what. I just remember thinkin’ ‘you’ll kill us all’.” 

Jack’s forehead pinched in confusion. “All who?” 

“How the hell would I know? Only other person I saw was your ex.” 

Jack blinked, his jaw loosening a little in surprise. “Juliet?” 

“Yeah. Came chargin’ outta the woods yellin’ at me to stop.” He frowned as another detail resurfaced in his memory. “Wait, you were callin’ me Sawyer when you had that dream, right?” 

Jack nodded, dazed. 

“Think she was callin’ me James...” 

Jack groaned. “Stop. Please...” He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Ford clenched his jaw. ‘No,’ he thought. ‘This nonsense ends right now.’ He knelt in front of Jack, pressing himself just inside the doctor’s personal space. “You know what? It don’t matter what happened. I don’t care if you think this dream is some sort of sign or vision of another universe. I really don’t believe that crap your kid’s teacher is tellin’ him anyway. All I know is, when I saw you dyin’ in my arms, deep down I was prayin’ those bastards would come back and kill me too. ‘cause I sure as hell didn’t wanna live without you.” 

Jack gave him a skeptical, weary look and opened his mouth to reply, but Ford just barreled on. 

“Yeah, I know it was just a dream, but that don’t change anythin’. It don’t matter how real it felt or how bad it was watchin’ those bastards beat you and know I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop ‘em. ‘cause in this universe? I *know* I’d walk into a hail of bullets before I’d ever let anyone hurt you.” 

Jack was silent for several very long seconds. “You barely know me,” he finally said softly. 

“I wanna know more.” Ford sighed and reached for Jack’s hands, relieved when Jack didn’t pull away. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. I ain’t ever wanted to be with someone so bad. And it ain’t just about sex, so don’t even go there. I want your face to be the last thing I see ‘fore I go to sleep at night and the first thing I see when I wake up. I wanna call you at work just to hear your voice, bring you coffee just to make you smile. Just...just give me a chance. That’s all I’m askin’.” 

Jack hesitated a minute, then glanced at the bedside table before speaking again. “It’s four in the morning. We’re both tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?” 

Ford’s face fell a little. “Yeah,” he mumbled, letting go of Jack’s hands and slowly climbing to his feet. “Tomorrow.” 

“Wait,” Jack blurted, reaching for Ford’s arm. “I didn’t mean...” 

“S’okay, Doc.” Ford smiled weakly. “Go back to sleep.” 

“Stay.” 

Ford froze, staring at Jack, certain he had misheard. “What?” 

Jack faltered, looking nervous and unsure. “You...you can sleep in here.” 

Ford’s eyes widened a little and he barely kept his mouth from falling open in shock. 

“I mean if...you can bring your blanket in here and sleep on top of the covers,” Jack continued, babbling. “If you want to. It’s just that after...you probably shouldn’t be alone.” 

Ford hesitated, trying to make sense of Jack’s mixed signals. It was obvious he was still hesitant – maybe even fearful – when it came to acting on his desires. Yet he was inviting Ford into his bed. Granted, the offer wasn’t sexual – more like a parent offering comfort to a nightmare-stricken child. But platonic or not, it suggested that Jack was finally willing to *trust* Ford. It suggested he was beginning to see Ford less as a thorn in his side only interested in dragging him from the closet and more as a potential companion – someone he could share simple intimacies with. 

“James...” 

The note of hesitation in Jack’s voice spurred Ford into action. “Yeah, blanket. Got it.” He turned and practically stumbled from the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Jack’s hands trembled slightly as he drew the cool cloth over Ford’s fevered skin. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s all right.” ‘He should be in a hospital,’ he thought miserably, glaring at the underground bunker surroundings. 

“Jack...” 

The sound was so soft Jack almost didn’t hear it. He dropped the cloth to the worn mattress and leaned closer. “I’m here.” 

Ford’s eyes didn’t open. He didn’t seem to really hear Jack at all – too lost in his fever dream – but his head turned toward Jack, as if sensing his presence. “Love you,” he mumbled. 

Jack’s breath caught in his chest. He opened his mouth to reply, though he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to say, but was interrupted by a loud alarm sounding from the next room. He cursed under his breath and ran into the next room, quickly typing a series of numbers onto an old-looking computer keyboard. He watched as the numbers on the counter above the doorway flipped over. 

Hands came around his waist, pulling him back against a solid, muscled body. 

“Thought you were comin’ to bed,” Ford said in a deep, husky drawl, burying his face in Jack’s neck. 

Jack looked back down at the computer. It still had the string of numbers he’d typed into it blinking on the screen, but now that screen was set in his own, decidedly more modern computer. He blinked as he realized he was back in his house and dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. 

“Bed,” he repeated dumbly. “Yeah.” He turned in Ford’s arms, feeling a surge of desire go through him as he took in Ford’s shirtless body and predatory expression. The man practically exuded sex from every pore. 

Ford kissed him, a deep, hungry kiss that made him feel dizzy. Jack closed his eyes and gave in to it, handing himself over to Ford easily. 

Ford pulled away suddenly and Jack bit back a moan of complaint. 

“Sawyer...” 

“The fuck do you think you’re doin’?” 

Jack opened his eyes, surprised to find Ford – dressed in a familiar looking brown jumpsuit - standing two feet away, a furious expression on his face. The room had disappeared, replaced by a jungle clearing. 

“You tryin’ to kill us all?” 

Jack blinked at him, confused, then slowly followed Ford’s line of sight down to his hands. He was holding some sort metal tube with wires wrapped around one end. ‘A bomb.’ 

“It’s the only way,” he said numbly, the words spilling from his lips without conscious thought. 

Ford’s fist connected with his jaw and he staggered. 

“I had a *life* here,” Ford shouted furiously. 

Jack fought back, landing a blow that knocked Ford to the ground. 

“Please...Sawyer...just listen to me...” 

Ford rolled toward him and Jack saw a flash of something from the corner of his eye a moment before something heavy crashed into the side of his head. 

Jack collapsed to the ground, stunned, his eyesight blurred. 

Ford had him pinned immediately, hands wrapped around his throat. “Will you stop,” he growled, squeezing. 

Jack choked and gurgled, clawing desperately at Ford’s hands. ‘Sawyer,’ he tried to say. ‘Please...’ Ford’s face grew blurry, his blond hair blending with the jungle leaves overhead. 

“Jack!” 

Jack’s vision snapped back into focus. Ford’s face was replaced with Juliet’s. She looked terrified. He blinked at her, confused, then realized he was upright once again and they were both wearing surgical scrubs. He looked down. A boy who couldn’t have been more than twelve lay on the operating table between them, his pale, freckled skin stained with the blood spreading from a gunshot wound in his abdomen. Jack already had a pair of forceps in one hand, hovering over the wound. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

Jack looked in the direction of the angry voice and saw Ford kneeling on the floor, a thuggish looking man standing beside him, aiming a gun at his head. They were both wet, their hair and clothes dripping water on the operating room floor. 

“What are you waiting for,” the thug repeated, waving the pistol pointedly. 

“Jack,” Juliet pleaded, drawing his attention back. “You have to save him. Please...” 

Jack looked back down at the boy on the table – a boy who looked disturbingly like David now. 

“It’s okay, Doc,” Ford called out. “My life ain’t worth savin’.” 

“Shut up,” the man with the gun snapped. 

Jack forced himself to tune out everything that was happening as he inserted the forceps into the wound tract, carefully pinching them around the bullet. He tugged gently and fresh blood welled up, pouring from the wound. The heart monitor beside Juliet instantly shrieked an alarm. 

“BPs dropping,” Juliet yelped urgently. “Jack...” 

“I’ve got it.” Jack grit his teeth and pulled the bullet free. A spray of bright red arterial blood gushed out after it and Jack’s breath caught in his throat. ‘No. That’s not supposed to happen. He’s not supposed to die.’ 

“He’s crashing!” Juliet ripped off her surgical mask and began CPR. It was only then that Jack noticed there was no crash cart in the surgical theater. It didn’t matter. They both knew she couldn’t save the boy. 

A gunshot echoed through the room and Jack looked up just as Ford’s body slumped to the ground. “NO!” he shouted, horrified, and instinctively ran toward Ford. 

He was stopped short when the thug turned and leveled the gun at him. The man hesitated only a moment, just long enough for Jack to see the angry accusation in his eyes. ‘You failed.’ Then his hand tensed, his finger squeezing the trigger. 

Jack’s eyes slammed shut. 

“Jack?” 

Jack tried to open his eyes, but the lids felt too heavy. 

“Wake up, Jack.” 

Jack’s body relaxed, even as his heart pounded. ‘It was just a dream.’ As his brain slowly caught up to reality he registered the feeling of the pillow beneath his cheek and the sheets twisted around his waist. 

He opened his eyes and Ford’s face slowly swam into focus, frowning at him in concern from where he lay on his side of the bed. “You’re safe now,” he said softly. 

Jack groaned and reached up to rub his eyes. 

“Same dream,” Ford asked warily. 

“No...” Jack frowned. “Yes...no.” He sighed and rolled onto his back, scrubbing his face with one hand. He struggled to recapture the details of the dream, even as they evaporated in the morning light. “You were still trying to kill me, but I think...I think I was trying to set off a bomb.” 

Ford felt his eyes widen a little in surprise. “You...a bomb?” 

“And then I was in an operating room, trying to save this kid,” Jack continued, his voice distant. “You were there. And this man was holding a gun to your head.” 

Ford reached across the bed and rested his hand on Jack’s arm. Jack shuddered gently at the touch. It was tentative, chaste. A simple gesture of silent support, grounding him. Soothing him. 

“He shot you.” Jack turned his head to look at Ford and anything else he may have meant to say died on his tongue. The man’s face was so open and honest – every emotion laid bare. The desire was nothing new and Jack had always attributed it to pure lust. But now it was mixed with a degree of apprehension. He was pretty sure he could pinpoint the source of that: he’d had the dream again. Ford was afraid whatever progress he’d made the night before would be washed away with the reminder that deep down, Jack was still afraid of him. 

And there was one other emotion Jack couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t love, he was sure of that - after all, how could he love a person he barely knew? – but it was something similar. It was soft and kind, almost tender. The only word Jack could think of to describe it was: affection. 

“It was just a dream,” Ford finally said, his voice soft and reassuring. 

Jack rolled toward Ford suddenly, forcing the blond to roll onto his back in surprise. He pressed his ear to Ford’s chest – not really sure why he was giving in to this strange impulse. It was completely ridiculous and unscientific, but the second he heard Ford’s strong heart beating and felt his chest move up and down with his steady breaths, Jack felt himself relax, his eyes falling shut. 

Ford lay stone still for a minute, confused by this new development. His hand hovered over Jack’s head, unsure. “You okay, Doc?” 

Jack felt the rumble of Ford’s voice beneath his cheek, the vibration of it seeming to go through his whole body. “I’m fine,” he murmured. “Just listening.” 

Ford’s hand finally rested on Jack’s head, fingers tentatively tunneling through his short hair. He half expected Jack to pull away, but Jack just sighed, his body growing a little heavier. 

“What do we do now,” Jack finally asked after a lengthy silence. 

Ford stopped petting Jack’s hair for a moment. “Whadd’you mean?” 

Jack lifted his head, turning to look at Ford, gauging the look in his eyes. Then he slowly leaned in and kissed Ford. 

Ford stayed perfectly still, letting Jack lead, afraid that any attempt on his part to take the initiative could spook Jack, make him retreat back into his shell. 

The kiss was tentative at first – a careful exploration. It grew deeper, more abandoned, as Jack eased into it, the desire he had tried to hold back for weeks gradually reawakening in him. He shifted his body closer to Ford’s – as close as he could get from beneath the blanket. But it wasn’t enough. 

The heated fog that had been building around Ford was broken suddenly when Jack rolled onto his back, dragging Ford on top of him. 

“Wait,” Ford gasped, pulling away. “Slow down.” 

“I thought this’s what you wanted,” Jack panted, his fingers tangling in Ford’s hair. 

‘Dear God, yes,’ Ford thought. He held back a groan as he took in Jack’s flushed face and kiss-reddened lips. The only thing keeping him from throwing caution to the wind and giving in to the desire was the uncertainty he could still see lingering in Jack’s eyes. “What do *you* want, Jack,” he asked. 

Jack blinked at him, mouth opening and closing a couple of times, unable to think of an answer. He froze and Ford felt him stiffen as a soft knock came from the door. 

“Jack,” Claire called tentatively. 

Ford sighed and glanced over his shoulder at the bathroom door on the far wall. “I’m gonna use your shower,” he whispered. He kissed Jack one last time before quietly slipping from the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. 

********** 

Jack was just finishing making the bed when Ford re-emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“What’d you tell ‘er,” Ford asked. 

Jack turned to face him and Ford thought he caught a flash of desire in his eyes as he took in the detective’s appearance – half naked and damp from the shower. “I told her the truth,” he said, recovering quickly. “Nothing happened.” 

Ford smirked. “She believe that?” 

Jack looked sheepish and Ford thought he saw a hint of a blush rise to his cheeks. “Not really.” 

Ford chuckled and reached back for his clothes. 

“I uh...I can get you a clean shirt,” Jack offered as Ford shrugged back into the same T-shirt he’d worn the night before. “We’re about the same size...” 

Ford waved dismissively. “Nah, this one’s clean.” His underwear, however, was not. And while Ford had no problem going commando, he wasn’t sure he wanted to walk around with his underwear stuffed in his jeans pocket. He wondered – as he stood fully dressed in the middle of Jack’s bathroom with his boxers in his hand – if any of the prostitutes he had arrested over the years had faced the same dilemma. He was debating throwing them over a lampshade or ceiling fan when Jack wasn’t looking just to mess with him a little when Jack came into the bathroom. 

“Laundry’s over there,” he directed as he opened one of the drawers beneath the sink. He pointed to the half-full basket in the corner. 

Ford hesitated. “You sure?” 

Jack fished an unopened toothbrush from the drawer and held it out to Ford. 

Ford smiled and tossed the boxers into the laundry basket. “Nah. I’ll just use yours like last time.” He waited for the look of surprise to register on Jack’s face. Then he chuckled. “I’m kiddin’. But I gotta go back to my place after breakfast, so I can wait.” 

“Oh.” 

Ford could tell Jack was trying not to look disappointed. “Tell you what...” He took the brush Jack still held and set it on the counter by the sink. “You pack that in a bag with some clothes and you can come over to my place tonight. I’ve been spendin’ so much time here, it’s more’n my turn.” 

“You...” Jack swallowed nervously. “You want me to sleep at your place tonight?” 

Ford stepped closer until their bodies nearly touched and reached to lightly cup Jack’s hip. “I want you t’ come over for dinner. Anythin’ that happens after that’s up to you.” 

Jack fidgeted, his hands gripping the edge of the countertop. “I uh...I have to work tomorrow.” 

“I know. Hence the clothes and toothbrush.” 

“I have to get up really early...” 

“I got an alarm.” 

“What about Claire?” 

“She’s cute, but the whole brother-sister thing would be kinda awkward.” 

Jack blinked at him, his forehead pinching. 

“Sorry,” Ford mumbled. 

“She just recently gave birth. I should stay close – monitor her for a few more days.” 

Ford nodded and let his hand fall from Jack’s hip. “S’okay, Doc.” 

“Wait,” Jack blurted, grabbing his hand before he could pull it back completely. “How about Friday?” 

Ford raised an eyebrow. “Friday?” 

Jack’s fingers alternatively clenched and relaxed around Ford’s wrist, mind and body still clearly warring with each other. “I should be...free...by then.” 

Ford couldn’t help but laugh. “Baby, you couldn’t be spontaneous if you tried.” 

Jack’s mind tripped for a second on the endearment that seemed to come out of nowhere and yet somehow slipped naturally from Ford’s mouth. “I can be spontaneous,” he finally said feebly. 

“Okay.” Ford pried Jack’s hand from his wrist and wrapped it in his own. “Okay. Friday. My place.” He wanted to joke about getting permission from Jack’s mother first, but he didn’t dare press his luck. There was already a risk that Jack would change his mind by Friday. But there really wasn’t anything Ford could do about that. If he pushed too hard, too fast, Jack might spook. If he backed off to let him breathe, he might get cold feet and run. 

‘Ball’s in his court,’ he thought. ‘Just wait. Let him take it.’ He lifted Jack’s hand, brushing his knuckles with a soft kiss. “It’s a date.”


	12. Chapter 12

(Three days later)

Miles was flipping through television stations when Jack slipped into the room. 

“Can I talk to you?” 

Miles looked startled, but recovered quickly, turning off the TV. “Uh, yeah, sure.” 

“I can come back later...” Jack started to slip back into the hall, ready to declare this attempted visit a mistake. 

“No, it’s okay. Is something wrong?” 

“No.” Jack stepped hesitantly closer. “No, I just...I wanted to talk to you about your partner.” 

Miles groaned. “What did he do this time?” 

“He didn’t...” Jack rubbed his forehead. He wasn’t really sure why he had felt a sudden need to talk to Miles, but he thought maybe the man could help him gain a little control over the situation somehow – some understanding of just what he was getting himself into. “Did he say anything about what happened last weekend?” 

“You mean the night he slept on your couch after you passed out in the hospital? He told me about it when he stopped by on Saturday.” 

“That’s all he said?” Jack wasn’t sure if he should consider that a good sign or a bad one. 

Miles was silent for a moment, seeming to read Jack. Then he gestured to the chair beside his bed. “Have a seat, Dr. Shephard.” 

Jack opened his mouth to protest – apologize for wasting his patient’s time and make some sort of graceful exit. But all that came out was “Jack.” 

Miles’ expression didn’t change. “Jack,” he amended. 

Jack sat in the plastic chair beside the bed. 

“What else happened?” 

Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Might as well tell him everything.’ “He spent the night on Saturday too. And he spent part of it in my bed.” 

Miles’ eyes widened. “Wait...you slept with Jim?” 

“Nothing happened.” Jack sighed. “We both had nightmares that shook us up pretty badly...I thought maybe we would sleep better if we weren’t alone. It was stupid, really.” 

Miles looked skeptical. “You *just* slept?” 

“I kissed him. But he pushed me away. He said he wanted to slow down.” He looked up at Miles, who seemed to have been struck dumb, and cleared his throat. “This morning when I finished up in surgery I found a cup of coffee sitting on my desk. I know it was him because he left a note saying he remembered the sugar this time...” 

“Woah, wait. Slow down...” 

“We have a date on Friday.” 

Miles massaged his temples and sighed. “Okay. One thing at a time. *You* kissed *him*? Not the other way around?” 

Jack nodded. 

“Why?” 

Jack frowned. “Why?” 

“You must’ve had a reason, right?” 

Jack’s mouth opened and closed a few times silently. 

“Look. Jim is very good at manipulating people into doing what he wants *and* making them think it was their idea all along. He would have made a good con artist. A week ago you were avoiding him and now you’re inviting him into your bed and making plans for a date. What changed?” 

Jack blew out a breath and leaned back in the chair. “You think he’s manipulating me?” 

“I didn’t say that. I’m just wondering why the sudden change of heart.” 

Jack studied the floor for a minute before answering. “Because I’m tired of fighting,” he finally said. “I’ve been finding excuses not to date for years. I’m too busy. I can’t find the right woman. I have to take care of my son. But since I met Ford, I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop *dreaming* about him. I know the dreams aren’t always good, but...it’s like I’m being *drawn* to him. Like we’re *supposed* to be together. Does that make sense?” 

Miles just stared at him, his expression blank. “Are you gay?” 

“No,” Jack answered instinctively. Then he flinched. “Yes...I don’t know.” 

Miles waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind. Scratch that. Are you attracted to Jim?” 

This answer Jack was confident about. “Yes.” 

“But you don’t trust him. Is that why you’re here talking to me?” 

Jack shifted a little in his seat. “Something like that.” 

“You want me to vouch for his character.” 

Jack stilled. “Yes.” 

Miles nodded and tried to sit up a little, push himself up the mattress. He gave up quickly when the efforts made his back twinge painfully. 

Jack caught his wince and sat up straighter. “Do you need help?” 

Miles waved his hand again. “No, I’m fine. Just getting a little stir crazy I guess.” He leveled his gaze at Jack. “Let me tell you something about Jim. He can be a real asshole sometimes. Drive you absolutely fucking insane until you just want to punch him in the face. But I wouldn’t trust anyone else to have my back. In fact, I probably wouldn’t be here recovering from a gunshot wound if he hadn’t been busy reading the suspect his rights when that other guy got the drop on me.” 

“Okay.” Jack frowned, not quite sure how to take that. 

“He reminds me of a dog my uncle used to have when I was a kid. We always had to be careful when he was around strangers because he would growl and sometimes try to bite them. One day I realized he only did it *because* they were strangers. Once he got to know them – once they *earned* his trust – he was the same big marshmallow he was around my family. It was his way of protecting us.” 

“So I’m the stranger?” 

“No. You *were*. See, Ford tends to keep people at arm’s length. And he usually does that by acting like an ass and pissing them off enough that they don’t want to get any closer. But if he trusts you, he can be the most loyal friend you could ever have. He already trusts you. I’m not sure what that makes you, but I know Ford. If he’s taking care of your son and bringing you coffee just for the hell of it and climbing into bed with you *just* to sleep, you are well past earning his trust.” 

Jack leaned back in the chair, rubbing at the day’s growth of stubble on his chin. “So what should I do?” 

“What are you asking me for? It’s none of my business.” 

“I mean...what am I getting myself into here?” 

Miles leveled him with an incredulous stare. “Do you always overthink things like this?” 

Jack frowned. 

“Look, if you don’t want to come out of the closet, that’s fine, but it sounds like you’re at least curious. What’s the worst that could happen?” His face slackened, humor fading with realization as Jack practically flinched at that and stared at the floor. “If you’re afraid Jim will do something to hurt you or humiliate you or something; don’t be. Even if it doesn’t work out between you, he’s not the kind of guy who would sabotage you out of spite. In fact, if somebody else did something to hurt you he would make it his personal mission to track them down and make them pay for it. He can be very...vigilante.” 

Jack still looked unconvinced. 

“Y’know, someone once told me that all relationships involve some sort of risk – at least in the beginning. You can’t avoid it. And you can’t go through life worrying about what *might* happen. So the question here isn’t whether or not you *should* - the question is: what do you *want*? If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. But if you are, you just need to stop overanalyzing everything and go for it. Call it a leap of faith.” 

Jack thought about that for a minute. Was he overthinking it all – worrying unnecessarily? Juliet had complained more than once about his tendency to get “too intense” about certain aspects of his life. 

‘Let it go, Jack,’ he heard his father’s voice whisper in his head. 

He opened his mouth, not entirely sure what he wanted to say, but was interrupted when the door to the room opened. 

“Excuse me, I didn’t realize you had a follow up today,” the surprised physical therapist said, beginning to retreat back into the hallway. “I can come back later.” 

“No, it’s okay. We were just finishing up.” Jack stood, quickly falling back into professional mode. “I’ll see you again next week, Mr. Straume?” 

Miles gave him an odd look, but followed his lead easily. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Dr. Shephard.” 

Jack smiled and nodded, slipping past the therapist. “He’s all yours, Doctor.”


	13. Chapter 13

Jack stood in the hallway outside Ford’s apartment, clutching a bottle of blush wine nervously, wondering how it was possible for a forty-year-old to feel like a scared teenager on his first real date all over again. He briefly considered leaving and forgetting he ever agreed to Ford’s offer.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he thought, pulling himself together and knocking on the door before he could change his mind again.

Ford opened the door a minute later with a warm smile. “C’mon in. Dinner’s almost ready.” He turned and strode back toward the kitchen before Jack had a chance to say anything.

Jack closed the door behind him and followed Ford, catching the scent of something sweet and spicy before he even reached the kitchen. “That smells good.”

Ford smiled, twisting a couple knobs on the stove and giving the food one last stir before sliding the pan to a cool burner. “It was my momma’s recipe. Spicy shrimp with bacon ‘n pasta.” He removed the lid from the large pot on the back burner and carried it to the sink, dumping its still-steaming contents into a waiting colander. “If you wanna open that, there’s a bottle opener in the drawer by the fridge.” He gestured at the nearly forgotten bottle in Jack’s hands.

“Oh. Uh...I wasn’t sure if I should get white or red, so...”

“Don’t matter what it is long’s it’s got alcohol. Glass’re over here.” He tapped a cabinet next to the sink. “You might want some water too. ‘f I did this right it should burn a bit and I don’t think wine’s gonna help with that.”

Jack opened the drawer and easily found the bottle opener amid the matchboxes, rubber bands and little else. “So your mom was a good cook,” he asked lamely, too nervous to come up with a better conversation starter.

“Yeah. I mean...I don’t remember much. I was nine when she died. But I remember this.” He dumped the noodles into a bowl and tossed the colander in the sink with the rest of the used dishes. “She always said the key to makin’ it was fryin’ the bacon the day before. Makes it all dried and soft and easy to crumble up. Of course, you could just use those canned bacon bits, but they just don’t taste the same.”

Jack crossed the kitchen to retrieve the wine glasses. “You really didn’t have to go to this much trouble.”

Ford brushed off the protest. “Nah. Ain’t often I get a chance to make this.”

Jack set the full wine glasses on the table beside the half-completed place settings and headed back for the water, automatically filling the glasses from the tap.

Ford looked up from where he was digging around in the oven. “No, you don’t wanna drink the water right from the tap. It’s like suckin’ on a mouthful of pennies. There’s a jug in the fridge.”

Jack dumped the half-filled glass and peered into the fridge. A pitcher with its own build-in filtration sat on the top shelf. He smiled a little as he noted the rest of the meager contents of the refrigerator. Beer, orange juice, milk, bacon and condiments mostly. It reminded Jack of what his own refrigerator had looked like before he’d had a child who needed more balanced nutrition – back when he had poured dressing on a half a head of lettuce and eaten it over the sink before going back to his textbooks to study for finals. He was willing to bet most of Ford’s actual meals were in the freezer, the cupboards, or came through the door in take-out boxes. Not that Jack’s own fridge was much better on weeks David wasn’t visiting. But that was changing now that Claire was living with him.

Jack brought the filled water glasses to the table just as Ford set down two plates heaped with noodles and shrimp, each with a piece of garlic bread balanced precariously on the edge. “You made garlic bread too?” he marveled.

Ford chuckled. “Nah. They were frozen.” He settled into his chair and sipped at his wine glass. “You let me know if that’s too spicy. Your kid said you liked spicy, but momma’s cookin’ wasn’t always for everybody.”

Jack had already taken a tentative bite. In all his nervousness over their date he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. His stomach growled as some of the knots loosened themselves. “It’s perfect,” he murmured, taking a bigger bite. He frowned. “Wait, when did you talk to David?”

“Sunday mornin’. While you were takin’ a shower and we were tryin’ to figure out what to make for breakfast.”

Jack suddenly understood the self-satisfied smile David had had when Jack had dropped him off at his mother’s house that night.

After a long pause, Jack said, “was she sick?”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Jack took a bite of his dinner, stalling for time to come up with a tactful way to ask the question. “You said your mom died when you were nine...”

“Oh.” Ford cringed a little. He wasn’t sure he was ready to tell Jack about the ugly parts of his past yet – especially the ones that included violence and could potentially reverse all the progress he’d made convincing Jack he wasn’t a dangerous person. So he went with a half-truth. “No, she was murdered.”

Jack froze mid-chew, staring at Ford in shock. He swallowed, coughed and took a gulp of water before mumbling “I’m sorry. I didn’t...did they catch the killer?”

“No. All anybody knew is he was a con man and he went by th’ name Tom Sawyer.”

“Sawyer,” Jack repeated dully.

“This ain’t exactly the most cheerful dinner conversation, Doc. Why don’t we talk ‘bout something’ else?”

Jack poked a piece of shrimp absently. “What do you want to talk about?”

Ford thought about it for a minute. “How ‘bout you and Juliet. How’d you two meet?”

Jack looked surprised, then hesitant.

“I’m just curious s’all,” Ford added hastily, remembering Jack’s reaction the last time he had asked about David’s mother. “I’m bettin’ she made the first move.”

Jack snorted. “I don’t remember who made the first move. We had human anatomy class together.”

“She a doctor?”

“Oh...yeah. Well, she’s in more of a specialized research field. She’s a fertility specialist.”

“Ah, well, that explains it.”

Jack’s face twisted in confusion. “What?”

Ford smiled. “Nothin’. So let me guess: you were helpin’ her study for that anatomy class and you ended up studyin’ each other’s anatomy instead.”

Jack shifted nervously. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Was she your first?”

“No,” Jack shoveled a forkful of food in his mouth, as if it would help him avoid elaborating any further.

“Your last?”

Jack chewed slowly. “No.”

“All women?”

Jack nodded.

“How many were there?”

Jack looked at him sideways. “Why?”

Ford shrugged. “Just curious.”

Jack thought about it. “Eight. No...nine.”

Ford nearly choked on his sip of wine. “And you’re how old?”

“I’m a doctor and I have a fourteen year old son. I don’t have much time for relationships,” Jack grumbled. “Why? How many have you had?”

“Just women or in general?”

Jack stared blankly.

Ford did a quick mental tally. “Sixteen women, fifteen men.”

Jack nearly dropped his fork.

“You’d be surprised how many people get all hot ‘n bothered by a guy with a badge. Few of ‘em wanted to play ‘Dirty Cop, Naughty Prisoner’. I bent one guy over the hood of my car.” He watched, amused as Jack took a health gulp from his wine glass. “But I’m guessin’ your idea of kinky sex is doin’ it on the couch.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Actually, one of my girlfriends liked to tie me up.”

Ford’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“She was a tattoo artist.” Jack gestured at the artwork on his arm. “She sucked me off right there in her parlor after she finished the number five.”

Ford smiled and took a sip of his own wine. “Public sex *and* bondage. I think I like this girl.”

“Yeah, well. I kind of broke it off with her when she showed me her new riding crop.”

Ford snorted, nearly spewing wine from his nose.

“She had a strap-on dildo she wanted to use on me too.”

Ford coughed and took a swig of water. “See now, that part mighta been fun.”

“You didn’t see the size of the dildo.”

Ford laughed. “Fair enough.” He reached for the wine bottle and topped off both of their glasses again.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you all of this...” Jack felt his face beginning to flush with embarrassment.

“Hey.” Ford reached over to cover the hand Jack had resting in a loose fist on the table. He waited until Jack’s eyes met his. “Don’t apologize. Don’t gotta keep anythin’ secret around here.”

Jack’s lips twitched a little in a nervous attempt at a smile. He slowly drew his hand back and reached for his wine glass. He cleared his throat. “When did you first know you...liked men?”

Ford blew out a breath. “Thirteen? I don’t know. Long’s I can remember bein’ interested in girls, I’ve been interested in guys too.”

Jack bit his lip, focusing on his fork as he spun it around in what was left of his pasta. “I mean...how did you know?”

Ford sat back in his chair, cradling his wine glass in his palm, studying Jack. He had come a long way since they’d met. It didn’t seem like he was afraid anymore. Just genuinely confused. Like someone whose entire worldview had been suddenly flipped on its ear and was now just struggling to get his bearings back. “I just knew,” he finally said simply.

A look of disappointment flashed in Jack’s eyes.

“Tell me somethin’...” Ford took a swig of wine. “You propose to any of those women you slept with ‘sides Juliet?”

Jack looked surprised by the question. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because...” Jack frowned. He had never thought about his past lovers like that. “Because none of those relationships were that serious.”

“And why’d you propose to Juliet? Was it ‘cause she was pregnant?”

Jack made a face at the suggestion. “I did it because I *wanted* to marry her. I wanted to raise my son with her.”

“You wanted to have a normal life with a wife and kids and a house with a white picket fence around it.”

Jack stared at him silently.

“But deep down you knew you couldn’t’a been happy livin’ like that. Sure, it sounded nice. And you loved her enough t’ make it work. But she just didn’t make you feel the way that roommate o’ yours made you feel.”

Jack instinctively looked at the stars on the inside of his elbow at the mention of Derek and swallowed thickly. He thought of all the late nights he had spent studying with Juliet – of how beautiful she was when she smiled and how he would gladly have spent the rest of his life trying to make her happy. And then he remembered the giddy feeling he’d had the first time Derek had smiled at him. The way they had just talked well into the early morning hours about anything...everything...and nothing at all. He thought about the time Derek had kissed him – how natural and effortless it had been.

“I’m gay,” he said softly.

Ford slowly set his glass back down and leaned closer. “You sure,” he asked gently. “Or ‘re you just sayin’ that ‘cause you think it’s what you’re s’possed to say?”

Jack stopped pushing what was left of his meal around his plate and dropped his fork in frustration. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t *want* you to say anythin’. I want you to do whatever it is *you* want for once in your life without worryin’ about what everyone else thinks.” Ford reached for Jack’s hand again, clasping it between both of his, craning his neck until Jack looked him in the eyes. “You’re safe here. You don’t gotta put on any sorta act. And nothin’ you do or say here’s gotta leave this apartment if you don’t want it to, okay?”

Jack squeezed his hand nervously. “I don’t know what I want. I’ve never done this before,” he admitted quietly.

Ford smiled. “I know. S’okay. I ain’t got any expectations.”

“Then why did you tell me to pack a toothbrush?”

“Hey, I remember sayin’ anythin’ that happened after dinner was up to *you*. If you wanna walk out that door, I ain’t gonna stop ya. And I ain’t gonna be upset.”

“And if I stay?”

Ford smiled. “That’s up to you too. But seein’ as you didn’t bring that bag I told you to pack, I’m guessin’ you already made up your mind.”

Jack just stared at him blankly, silently, giving away nothing.

Ford nodded and let go of Jack’s hand, picking up his wine glass again. “Your shrimp’s gettin’ cold.”

Jack hesitated a moment, then slowly retrieved his fork and stabbed a piece of shrimp. “So...” he cleared his throat. “What about your dad? Is he still in Tennessee?”

“I hope so. ‘swhere we buried him.”

Jack winced. “Shit. I’m sorry...”

Ford shrugged. “Happened a long time ago.”

The look in his eyes and the healthy gulp of wine he took belied his flippant tone, but Jack didn’t dare press further.

“My dad drank himself to death,” he blurted instead. “About two months ago. I mean...technically he had a heart attack, but he was an alcoholic.”

“Yeah, David told me he’d died. ‘m sorry.”

Jack nodded absently. “I reported him to the medical board after a patient died a few months ago. I got him fired. The night he died, he called me...left me a voicemail. He said he forgave me and he was proud of me.” Jack blinked rapidly, forcing back the building moisture. “He also said he had something important to tell me when he got back from Australia.”

“Your sister.”

Jack nodded. “He never got a chance. But he told Claire about me and David. He told her he was worried about me – that I was alone and unhappy. That I might become as self-destructive as he was.”

Ford finished his last bite of noodles and sat back in his chair, nursing his half-full wine glass. “Considerin’ that performance you gave last week, I’m inclined to think he had a point there.”

“Thanks,” Jack muttered, shoving a bite of food in his mouth.

“No, you are self-destructive. You just don’t see it that way. See, you’re the kinda guy who’d get himself killed tryin’ to save some stranger from a burnin’ car wreck. And while that might make you a good doctor, it also can make you a good martyr. You ain’t any good to anyone if you kill yourself tryin’ to play hero all the damned time. And you ain’t ever gonna be *happy* if you’re always worryin’ about pleasin’ everyone else.”

Jack swallowed his last bite of dinner slowly and down the last of his glass of wine in one gulp. “And you think you can make me happy?”

“Maybe. More importantly, I can make sure you put yourself first every once in a while, cause you sure as hell ain’t pullin’ this hero crap on me.”

Jack wiped his mouth with his paper napkin and dropped it, crumpled, on his plate. “So what happens now?”

Ford polished off his own glass of wine. “You tell me. I’m thinkin’ that was more’n enough food to soak up all the wine, but you’re welcome to stay.”

“And if I stay?”

Ford shrugged. “You can crash on the couch and watch movies all night if you want. Don’t matter to me.”

“We both know that’s not what you had in mind when you asked me to spend the night.”

“Well, no. But if you ain’t ready for that you ain’t ready. I ain’t got any expectations.” He pushed himself back from the table and gathered both plates. “It’s your choice, Doc.”

Jack picked up his glasses and followed Ford to the sink, setting them gently on the counter. “Can I help with the dishes,” he asked, watching Ford fill the sink with hot, soapy water.

“Nah, I got it.” Ford smiled as he dumped the used dishes into the sink. He wiped his hands on a towel and leaned against the counter, looking at Jack expectantly. “So’re you stayin’ or leavin’?” He knew what the answer would be. He could see Jack’s eyes flitting toward the door – whether or not he was conscious of it. He may have come a long way since Ford had met him, but that didn’t mean he was ready to take that step.

Jack rubbed at his face nervously, seemingly waging some sort of internal conflict. Then he leaned forward and kissed Ford.

Ford welcomed the kiss easily, reaching to cradle the back of Jack’s head gently, letting Jack lead.

Jack pulled away seconds later, looking down, refusing to look Ford in the eye. “Thanks...for dinner,” he murmured. “I ah...I’ll call you?” He finally looked at Ford’s face and instantly regretted it. He recognized the look on Ford’s face. His father had worn it often. Disappointment.

“Sure,” Ford said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jack nodded and pulled away, slipping from the room without another word or glance backward.

Ford turned toward the sink and sighed quietly as he heard the front door close softly.


	14. Chapter 14

Ford finished the dishes, put everything away and mopped up the stray spills on the counters. He had just turned off the kitchen light and started heading back into the living room when the front door opened.

He froze, cursing himself for not locking it after Jack left and mentally calculating the distance to his service weapon. ‘Too far.’

He blinked, stunned into silence, as Jack quietly slipped into the apartment, shut the door and engaged both locks.

Jack turned to him, startled and smiled sheepishly. “Where should I put this,” he asked, holding up a small duffel bag.

Ford resisted the urge to pinch himself. “Thought you were leavin’.”

Jack rubbed his neck. “I ah...I was going to, but...I changed my mind.”

This was a good enough explanation as far as Ford was concerned. He crossed the room in five long strides, took Jack’s face between his palms and kissed him.

Jack reached to grip Ford’s shoulders with his free hand, whimpering as Ford worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Can I, uh...can I use your bathroom first,” Jack asked tentatively when Ford let him up for air.

“Oh...sure.” Ford let go of Jack to gesture deeper into the apartment. “Down the hall, through the bedroom. You c’n leave your bag in there.”

Jack smiled nervously and broke away from Ford, heading in the direction he’d pointed.

Ford watched him, resisting the urge to pump his fists in the air and shout victoriously. There would be time for that later. For now, he needed to focus his energy on proving to Jack that he had just made the right choice.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed when Jack emerged from the bathroom.

Jack smiled at him nervously.

Ford smiled back, just as nervous though for entirely different reasons. “C’mere,” he said softly, holding his hand out in invitation.

Jack stepped closer, stifling a gasp as Ford took hold of his wrist and tugged him between the detective’s spread knees. His other hand went instinctively to Ford’s shoulder as he steadied himself, feeling his shins bump lightly against the bed frame.

Ford brushed a kiss against the inside of Jack’s wrist, feeling the fluttering of his pulse beneath his lips.

Jack’s other hand moved, trailing up Ford’s neck and tangling in his hair, coaxing his head back. He went with the movement and smiled inwardly as Jack bent to kiss him. He was finally taking initiative. Ford growled appreciatively and opened his mouth to Jack’s tentative explorations.

“You brushed your teeth,” he murmured between kisses.

It wasn’t a question – Jack obviously tasted of mint – but Jack answered it anyway. “Yeah.”

Ford debated for a minute, decided it wasn’t very sexy to kiss someone who still tasted like bacon and garlic bread and reluctantly pushed Jack away. “Give me two minutes,” he said, standing up.

“No, you don’t have to...”

Ford kissed away Jack’s protest and pushed him toward the bed. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

He returned five minutes later – because a full bladder wasn’t sexy either – to find Jack lowering the shades on the window, blocking out the faint, rapidly-fading light of the late evening. Ford smiled and reached to turn on the small bedside reading lamp before snapping off the main light switch, plunging the rest of the room into soft shadows and pale glow.

“C’mere,” he said again, beckoning to Jack, who stood awkwardly beside the window, fidgeting with the cuffs on his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.

Jack moved toward him with sure, confident steps, but his nervousness was still evident in the eyes that couldn’t seem to focus on anything very long – certainly not Ford’s face. Ford reached up to gently frame Jack’s face, encouraging him to look Ford in the eye.

“You sure this’s what you want?”

Uncertainty seemed to skitter across Jack’s features for a moment, only to be replaced by a hard determination. Jack reached up to grab Ford’s hands, pulling them away while he leaned forward, brushing their lips together. “Yes,” he whispered.

Ford groaned and deepened the kiss, reaching around Jack’s waist to drag him closer. Jack gasped into his mouth and Ford felt fingers tangle in his hair, encouraging his attentions.

Jack felt dizzy by the time Ford let him up for air. He panted and moaned as Ford’s lips continued down his neck, blazing a heated trail. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made him feel like this – awakened every nerve ending and set his skin to tingling. Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been intimate with someone who was more concerned with his pleasure than their own. He had always been the one to take the lead – the one in control. But when he reached for Ford’s belt, trying to gain even a small amount of control, Ford batted his hand away and continued unbuttoning Jack’s shirt.

“James...”

“Shh...don’t worry ‘bout me, darlin’,” Ford murmured as he swept Jack’s shirt from his shoulders. Jack let the material slip down and off, fluttering gently to the floor. “Just tell me what you need.”

Jack took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself to relax. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Ford’s warm, soft lips on his neck and shoulders. The mild buzz from the wine combined with the nervous euphoria of Ford touching him so intimately, reawakening his long-denied desire, was making him dizzy. “I think I need to lay down.”

He almost regretted saying it when he saw the concern in Ford’s eyes.

“You okay,” he asked as he guided Jack to sit down on the edge of the bed. “You need some water?”

Jack smiled. Ford may have been prickly enough on the surface to frighten Jack, but deep down he was a big softie. Jack felt his remaining hesitation melt away – if not his apprehensions about the physical aspects of what they were about to do. “I’m fine,” he murmured, reaching to tangle his fingers in Ford’s hair again. “Don’t stop.”

Ford’s eyes darkened and before Jack could take another breath he was flat on his back with Ford kissing and licking down his chest. Jack sighed and closed his eyes again as a pleasurable warmth spread through his body, forcing aside the increasingly tiny voice in the back of his mind that said a guy like him shouldn't want this – that it was wrong somehow.

“Jack?”

Jack opened his eyes, startled to find Ford hovering over him, staring.

“You back with me,” Ford asked, amused.

Jack flustered. “Sorry.”

“S’okay. Just checkin’.” Ford let his fingers drift across Jack’s bare abdomen, tracing the line of a scar that ended just above the waistline of his slacks. “What happened here?”

Jack glanced down as if he’d forgotten the scar was even there. “Appendicitis.”

“Ah.” Ford leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the pinkish line and Jack swallowed a whimper. “How long?”

“Uh...” Jack struggled to focus as Ford’s lips continued tracing the scar, moving maddeningly lower. “About...four years ago.”

Ford hummed softly and Jack squirmed as the vibration on his skin sent a shiver through his body. He forced himself to breathe deeply as Ford deftly unbuttoned his slacks and tugged them off, sending them to the floor with his shirt.

“You okay there,” Ford asked, letting his fingers trail along the insides of Jack’s thighs.

Jack nodded. “Y...yeah.”

Ford let his fingers trail softly over the growing bulge in Jack’s boxers, feeling the flesh beneath twitch in response.

“I...you’re still...dressed,” Jack stuttered suddenly.

Ford smiled and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Jack’s boxers. “s’okay.”

Jack’s hands covered his suddenly, halting him. “No, wait...I want...” he trailed off as Ford went back to kissing his abdomen, unfazed.

“Yeah,” Ford prompted, swirling his tongue around Jack’s navel. “You want?”

Jack just tugged on Ford’s hands, coaxing him back up the bed. He plunged his fingers into Ford’s hair and dragged him in for a desperate, hungry kiss. “Clothes off. Now,” he pleaded.

Ford smiled, gave one more playful nip at Jack’s bottom lip and carefully pulled away, climbing from the bed and stripping down to his boxers as quickly as possible.

Jack felt nervous excitement vibrate through him as he watched Ford bare his muscled body. He did want this – as much as he may have tried to convince himself otherwise once. The fact that the physicality of the act was still an intimidating leap was the only reason he had left his overnight bag in the car. He’d told himself he was being ridiculous – that Ford had been nothing but kind and gentle toward him – but letting go and trusting someone else so implicitly didn’t come easy for him. He shivered at the predatory look in Ford’s eyes as the southerner crawled back onto the bed. They easily fell into each other, their mostly bare bodies flush, limbs comfortably tangled.

“What do ya want, darlin’,” Ford drawled in a deep rumble that made Jack shiver again.

Jack marveled at how Ford could be so calm and restrained while Jack was barely able to think straight. “I...” he whimpered as Ford nipped at his earlobe. “I don’t know.”

Ford chuckled and rolled his hips gently, delighting in the tiny, surprised gasp the movement wrung from Jack. He was pretty sure he could get Jack off like this if he had the patience, but he wanted more. He wanted to taste Jack. He wanted to get inside him and watch him fall apart, feel him come undone. He wanted Jack to fuck him. Feel that strength surging within him, those graceful hands wringing pleasure from his body.

‘One step at a time,’ he thought. He knew Jack wouldn’t be ready for that much yet. He had to go slow. He reached down to cup his palm over the warm flesh tenting Jack’s boxers, hearing Jack inhale sharply in anticipation. “Let’s take care of this first,” he murmured.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the underwear and slid it down and off with fluid efficiency. Then he settled between Jack’s legs, pausing for a moment to admire the sight. “You’re beautiful.”

Jack laughed nervously and looked away, his legs instinctively trying to close.

Ford’s warm hands pressed on the insides of his thighs, stopping him, holding him open. “I mean it, Doc.”

Jack’s eyes met Ford’s and he felt a shudder work its way down his spine at the dark lust in his eyes. He gasped as Ford reached out to run one finger along the curve of his upturned cock – the faintest of touches.

“Prettier n’ I imagined,” Ford murmured absently. He leaned down to lap at the bead of moisture forming at the tip, delighting in the small, strangled noise Jack made in the back of his throat. The low, helpless moans he emitted when Ford finally took the entire length in his mouth were even more gratifying.

Jack’s hands scrabbled at the sheets as the pleasure built faster than he’d expected, with Ford doing all the right things to send him over the edge. He reached for Ford’s head, intending to push him away, stop him before he could no longer stop himself. But the second he made contact, Ford hummed and flicked his tongue in *just* the right spot and Jack was lost, coming suddenly with an abandoned cry.

By the time he regained his senses, Ford was hovering beside him, one hand drawing gentle patterns on his stomach, smiling like the proverbial canary-eating cat.

“I’m sorry,” Jack blurted, feeling like an idiot. “I can usually last longer than that.”

Ford chuckled. “Don’t worry ‘bout that, darlin’. First times’re always over too quick.”

“You didn’t even...” Jack plucked at the waistband of Ford’s boxers hesitantly.

“Come?”

Jack nodded. He had intended to say ‘finish taking off your clothes’, but Ford’s statement was much more direct.

Ford smiled. “Don’t worry about it,” he repeated. “We got time.”

“How can you be so calm,” Jack marveled. He was pretty sure he’d never been as relaxed and in control during sex as Ford was.

“A little patience. A little bit of experience...and a bit of jerkin’ off this afternoon.”

Jack’s eyes widened, surprised by the abrupt candidness of the statement. Then he laughed.

Ford’s smile broadened, a mischievous spark lighting his eyes.

“So, you don’t want...”

“Oh, I ain’t outta commission yet. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t crossin’ the finish line ‘fore you were even ready.”

Jack let his fingers drift up to the bulge in Ford’s boxers, his touch light, tentative. “What do you need me to do?”

Ford sighed, his hips instinctively moving into Jack’s light touch. “What you’re doin’ is just fine.”

Jack hesitated. “That’s it?”

“Well, harder and without the boxers, but yeah. That’s good.”

Jack’s hand stopped moving entirely and Ford bit back a groan. “You didn’t jerk off earlier just so I could jerk you off now,” he said matter-of-factly.

Ford ran his thumb along Jack’s lower lip, already kiss-swollen. “I told you, I ain’t got any expectations.”

“But you want to fuck me.”

Ford’s cock twitched under Jack’s hand. “Don’t matter what I want,” he said stubbornly. “I’m doin’ what you want tonight.”

“And what if I said I want you to fuck me?”

“I’d say you were sayin’ what you think I wanna hear again.”

“I’m never going to be more ready than I am right now. Please. I want...I don’t...” Jack sighed and reached up to sweep a lock of Ford’s hair behind his ear. “I trust you.”

It was those last words that broke Ford. He could see the nervous determination in Jack’s eyes. He leaned in to kiss Jack, slow and deep, until their breathing synchronized, evened out. He looked into Jack’s eyes once more as he pulled back, and this time he saw only desire. He nodded and slowly climbed from the bed.


	15. Chapter 15

Jack watched, barely able to breathe, as Ford stripped off his boxers and turned to dig through a dresser drawer. He watched the muscles in Ford’s back flex beneath the skin – skin that was somehow the same perfect golden shade all over his body. He realized he was staring at Ford’s ass when Ford turned and he was confronted with the sight of his very erect cock. Jack’s eyes shot to Ford’s face, embarrassed at having been caught.

Ford just smiled and climbed back onto the bed with a fluid grace. He dropped his supplies beside Jack’s hip and reached for the doctor’s hand, eyes never breaking contact as he brought it to his cock.

This, Jack knew how to do.

Ford groaned as Jack stroked him expertly, touching him in all the right places, using just the right amount of pressure and giving just the right amount of twist to the upstroke without even the slightest uncertainty.

He also knew when to stop before Ford lost control.

Ford hissed at the sudden loss of contact. He recovered quickly, though he grumbled a few curses under his breath as he snapped open the lubricant tube and squirted some onto his fingers. He positioned himself between Jack’s legs and bent to recapture his lips.

Jack gasped into Ford’s mouth as he felt a finger press against his opening, circling, spreading moisture...almost massaging the muscle.

Ford’s lips drifted to Jack’s ear. “Just relax, baby,” he murmured, the words low and husky, making Jack shudder. Jack tried to do as he’d asked, but his body was wound tightly with anticipation.

Ford’s finger stilled and he pressed his lips to the soft skin beneath Jack’s ear, working toward his throat. “I ain’t gonna hurt you,” he whispered between gossamer light kisses.

A moment later Ford felt the telltale give in Jack’s body and pushed slowly inside.

Jack stilled, barely breathing. It didn’t hurt, but the intimacy of it was strange and new.

Ford leaned back so he could see Jack’s face. “That okay?”

Jack nodded shakily. “Yeah.” His jaw fell slack and he let out a startled cry as Ford’s finger curved upward and pressed against his prostate suddenly and without warning. “Fuck!”

Ford chuckled. “Good?”

Jack moaned, softer this time, as Ford repeated the movement, sending a spark of white-hot pleasure directly to his cock. “Too much,” he gasped. Ford eased up a little and he sighed. “There...like that.”

Ford smiled and settled into the bed beside Jack, his cock pressing into Jack’s left hip.

“You can...” Jack trailed off, biting his lip. Ford licked at his lips until he opened his mouth to the man’s kiss.

“You think you can take another finger,” Ford murmured.

Jack nodded gratefully – glad he didn’t have to ask – and reached to tangle his fingers in Ford’s hair. He hissed as Ford pulled his finger free only to return immediately with two.

Ford stopped moving. “You okay?”

“Y...yeah,” Jack nodded emphatically. It stung a little, but it certainly wasn’t painful. “Don’t stop.”

Ford smirked. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” He twisted his fingers carefully, gently working Jack open. He didn’t thrust yet. He wanted to get Jack used to the feeling of being filled. He bent to take Jack’s closest nipple in his mouth, worrying it with teeth and tongue, and felt a surge of desire as Jack whimpered and began making tiny thrusting motions. He climbed back onto his knees and redoubled his efforts to drive Jack insane, working him over until he was so wrapped up in lust that Ford was pretty sure he didn’t even notice the third finger sliding into him.

Ford leaned back a little and took a moment to fully appreciate the sight of Jack splayed out on his bed, legs spread, hips hitching with every movement of Ford’s fingers. His cock – damp from his own excitement and Ford’s attentions - strained upward, twitching eagerly each time Ford brushed his prostate just right. His fingers twisted in the bed sheets and his neck arched, broken gasps of pleasure spilling from his lips.

Ford couldn’t wait any longer.

Jack whimpered in protest as Ford’s hands suddenly abandoned him. He watched as Ford fumbled for the supplies he’d retrieved earlier, shakily unrolling the condom over his cock. “How do you want...” he faltered, his mouth going dry. The man looked impossibly huge suddenly.

Ford hesitated, the bottle of lubricant poised over his palm. He hadn’t really considered the specifics of this part. The most comfortable position for Jack would probably be on his hands and knees or even his stomach, with a pillow under his hips so he could relax. But Ford wanted to see his face, partly for selfish reasons, but mostly so he could read Jack’s every response to what he was doing.

“Prob’ly be easier if you were on top,” he said, squirting a generous amount of lube onto his hand.

Jack made subtle fidgeting motions, his eyes darting nervously between Ford’s face and the hand coating his generous endowment with lubricant. “Oh...I don’t...”

Ford chuckled – more than a little breathlessly – and reached for a pillow. “It’s okay. This’ll work.” He hadn’t really expected Jack to be ready for that yet. It might appeal to his need for control, but it left him too exposed, too on-display. “Up.”

Jack lifted his hips and helped Ford position the pillow beneath his lower back, allowing his knees to fall open a little wider.

His breathing stuttered as Ford leaned over him, positioned himself between his legs. He felt the blunt tip of Ford’s cock nudge against his opening.

“You let me know if I hurt you ‘n I’ll stop, okay?”

Jack met Ford’s concerned gaze and nodded.

Ford kissed him, slow and deep, obviously trying to calm him. “Just relax,” he murmured against Jack’s lips. “Don’t tense up.” He shifted his weight to his right hand, snaking his left between their bodies. And then he was pressing inside.

Jack gasped, his hands coming up to grip Ford’s back as the burning pressure increased until he thought he would go mad. And Ford had moved forward barely an inch. He was moving too slow, Jack thought, trying to ease himself into the tight space too tentatively. But Jack knew from his own experience with virgins that going too fast was probably worse. He would have to trust that Ford knew what he was doing.

Ford pulled back and pushed forward again, gently, using every bit of restraint he could muster to hold back and go slow when his body demanded that he plunge into that inviting heat. “Just breathe,” he murmured in Jack’s ear. He pressed his hand to Jack’s abdomen, feeling the taut skin flutter and twitch with Jack’s stuttering breaths. “Nice ‘n deep.” He forced his own breathing into a slow rhythm and pressed down with each exhale until Jack began to copy him. “That’s it, baby.” He felt the telltale give in Jack’s body and pushed forward again, getting maybe halfway before Jack whimpered. He froze. “That hurt?”

Jack shook his head, not trusting his voice yet. It stung – quite a bit – but he could handle it.

Ford levered himself upright again, sitting back on his heels and reaching for the lubricant, thankful he had left it close at hand.

Jack moaned as Ford’s movements caused him to pull almost all the way out. Then Ford’s newly slicked fingers were between his legs, slicking his cock and playing around his opening, pressing against the aching patch of skin above it.

This time when Ford lifted Jack’s knees onto his shoulders and pushed inside, he met little resistance.

Jack gave a tiny cry, his back arching, his fingers twisting in the sheets as he fought to keep his muscles relaxed. His thighs trembled beneath Ford’s fingers from the effort. He could feel every pulsating inch of Ford’s cock stretching his skin so tight it burned. But it didn’t *hurt*. Not really. It was almost like the kind of burn a runner feels before the endorphins kick in.

“You okay?” Ford was already breathless, his skin slick and his body vibrating with restrained need.

Jack nodded shakily. “Y...yeah.”

Ford slid Jack’s legs from his shoulders and guided them around his waist. Then he leaned forward and captured Jack’s mouth. “So good,” he murmured against trembling lips. “Gotta move, sweetheart.” He moaned, low and guttural, as he gave a small, careful thrust.

It took a few thrusts before Jack grew comfortable with the feeling – before he felt his body really relax into the act and open up to Ford. He unclenched his hands from the sheets and reached for Ford, his hands mapping the detective’s sweat-slickened back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his fingers.

“That’s it,” Ford growled in his ear, making him shiver. “Just let me...” He trailed off with a groan.

“Please,” Jack breathed. His fingers drifted lower, feeling the muscles in Ford’s lower back ripple, the pool of moisture growing in the small depressions just above his ass (dimples, he thought vaguely), then, tentatively lower. He moaned incoherently as Ford responded by thrusting harder and trailing wet, open mouthed kisses across his throat, circling back toward his mouth.

The kiss was uncoordinated, sloppy, both of them too aroused to be elegant.

“Got me so close,” Ford muttered. “Gonna...” He groaned and pushed himself upright, fumbling for a moment to do it without breaking their connection.

Jack gave a tiny bereft whimper as he was deprived suddenly of Ford’s warmth. Not knowing what to do with his hands anymore, he let them fall back to the sheets, twisting his fingers once more in the mussed sheets.

Ford flipped his hair out of his eyes and wrapped his hand around Jack’s cock. “With me,” he gasped. He spread his legs a little and lowered his hips, angling his next thrusts upward and was rewarded with the sight of Jack’s eyes going wide, his mouth falling open with a startled cry as his back arched with pleasure.

Jack writhed as Ford’s hand slid easily, wetly over his cock. It was too much. Every sharp thrust of Ford’s hips slammed his cock against Jack’s prostate, sending a burst of pleasure so acute it was almost painful up his spine. But he didn’t dare ask Ford to stop, slow down. Instead, he moaned with him, letting the pleasure completely overwhelm his senses, vaguely aware that the incoherent babbling that reached his ears was probably his own.

Ford was beginning to fear he would leave Jack behind in spite of his efforts – he was so very close and going over baseball stats and gruesome crime scenes in his head could only stave off the inevitable for so long.

“Oh, fuck,” Jack panted, as he had been doing for the past few thrusts. “Fuck! Please...I can’t...oh God...oh...” And then suddenly he went quiet. His hands fisted in the sheets, his legs tightened around Ford, his eyes rolled back in his head and he came in thick spurts, coating Ford’s hand and his own abdomen.

Ford let go then and after three more thrusts he was coming himself with a loud, helpless groan, all the pent up tension in his body unwinding as he emptied himself into Jack.

He just had the presence of mind to keep from collapsing on top of Jack, easing himself onto his elbows instead and letting his forehead rest on Jack’s shoulder, feeling the shudders still rolling through the doctor’s body.

Jack’s senses came back to him slowly as he stared at the ceiling, waiting for his heart to return to a more normal rate. He reached to stroke Ford’s hair, heard the detective’s breath catch slightly.

Ford trailed a series of lazy kisses up Jack’s throat, just brushing his lips gently. “You okay?”

Jack focused on Ford’s face, the blue eyes that studied him worriedly, and nodded. Then he tilted his chin, lifting his head to better meet Ford’s kiss, taking it deeper, needing that reaffirming connection. He could feel Ford’s cock softening inside him, a thick, wet weight. It was strange, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He could feel his muscles clench around it, as if trying to draw out one last spasm of pleasure.

Ford groaned and then suddenly he was moving away, one hand going to the base of his cock to hold the condom as he pulled out carefully. He swallowed Jack’s whimper of protest. “Gotta get something to clean us up,” he murmured against Jack’s lips.

Jack let him go reluctantly, watching as he made his way through the maze of clothing on the floor to the bathroom. ‘I should pick those up before they get wrinkled,’ he thought absently. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. The bed was so warm and comfortable, he could feel himself sinking into it. And besides, he wasn’t sure his muscles would even still work properly if he tried to stand. Some of them felt utterly liquefied. And yet part of him still ached for more. More of what, he wasn’t quite sure yet. More of everything, maybe.

He was absently drawing his finger through the spent fluids on his stomach when Ford returned with a washcloth. Ford gave him a wolfish smile and snatched his hand, capturing the finger in his mouth. Jack gasped, a shudder of pure lust going through him as Ford’s tongue danced along the digit, thoroughly licking it clean.

Ford watched with delight as Jack’s dark eyes fixated on his lips, breath shortening to strangled little pants punctuated by tiny whimpering noises Ford didn’t think he was aware he was making. Ford immediately decided he loved having Jack like this. All soft around the edges – fuzzy from orgasm and exertion. All of his defenses fallen away. Looking at him with equal parts lust and wonder. He truly was beautiful. Ford thought if he wasn’t so exhausted he would want nothing more than to go another round. Wring a few more of those abandoned cries from Jack, make his toes curl and his body flush with pleasure.

Some other time, maybe.

He released Jack’s hand and set to work at wiping away the rest of the mess on Jack’s abdomen with the washcloth, unable to resist bending down to kiss the freshly cleaned skin. Jack sighed pleasurably, then hissed as Ford pressed the cloth to his swollen opening.

Ford winced. “Sorry. Lift up for a second.”

Jack lifted his hips to allow Ford to slide the pillow free and stretched his legs a little, the muscles in his thighs already feeling a bit sore from overuse. He tried to reach for Ford, but Ford was already turning back toward the bathroom. He heard the water running for minute and then Ford was coming back into the bedroom. Jack took a moment to really appreciate the sight of Ford approaching the bed in the dim light of the bedside lamp. It was unfair, really, how the guy could look like he just stepped off the cover of a romance novel – the trashy kind Juliet used to read even though she claimed they were ridiculous - without even trying.

Then Ford snapped off the lamp, plunging the room into near darkness. But Jack could still see him in the faint glow from some other previously unseen light. He lifted his head and located the source – a tiny nightlight near the door to the bathroom. He wondered if that was there for him or because Ford had gotten tired of stubbing his toes on late night, half-awake trips to the bathroom.

Ford crawled into the bed beside him, drawing the covers up over them both, and settled against Jack’s side. He slipped one leg between Jack's thighs and rested his head on the doctor’s shoulder. “This okay?”

“Y...yeah.”

Ford hummed and pressed his palm to Jack’s abdomen, absently stroking the warm skin with his thumb.

Jack covered the hand with his own and wrapped his other arm around Ford’s shoulders. The gesture felt unfamiliar yet perfectly natural. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Ford chuckled and Jack felt his stomach flutter a little at the sound. “Don’t gotta thank me for that, Doc.”

“No, I mean...” Jack couldn’t quite put together all the thoughts and feelings that were swirling through his head. He felt like a part of him deep down that he had hardly even known existed had been cracked open, allowing a rush of new emotions to flood through. It was overwhelming and frightening and exhilarating and...liberating. All at the same time.

Ford pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “I know, sweetheart. It’s okay. Get some sleep.”

Jack wanted to protest, but he was too tired. The thoughts swirling through his head were becoming increasingly incoherent and circular in logic. He needed to sleep. He could worry about what this all meant and what happened next in the morning. Ford’s thumb was still stroking a soothing rhythm on his abdomen. He focused on it, letting his mind drift, letting himself sink into the warm comfort of the bed and Ford’s embrace.


	16. Chapter 16

“Let go.”

Jack ground his teeth together and pressed harder on Ford’s arm, pinning it to the already blood-stained tiles, feeling heat bubble beneath his hands.

Ford glowered up at him, his eyes bright with a mixture of anger and pain. “There’s somethin’ you should know...” his eyes narrowed. “’f the tables were turned...I’d watch you die.”

Jack felt a shudder go through him, but he refused to give in. Ford was just trying to push his buttons. “I’m not letting you kill yourself.”

“My life ain’t worth savin’, Doc.”

Ford’s voice sounded strangely far away. Jack blinked and suddenly the man beneath him wasn’t Ford anymore and the blood-stained tiles had been replaced by a stainless steel operating table.

“BP’s dropping.”

Jack looked up, startled. Juliet’s eyes beseeched him from the other side of the table. “You have to save him, Jack.”

“C’mon, Goddamnit, what’re you waiting for?!”

Jack looked toward the source of the voice and saw Ford, soaking wet, kneeling on the floor, a twitchy, scruffy looking man holding a gun to his head.

“What are you waiting for,” the man with the gun repeated.

Jack forced himself to refocus on his hands and the forceps already inserted into the wound tract, blocking out everything else. “I’ve got it,” he muttered as he gripped the bullet and began gently pulling it free. Blood gushed from the wound and an alarm shrieked. Jack froze. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“He’s crashing,” Juliet yelped, ripping off her surgical mask and beginning CPR.

A shot rang out and Jack looked up as Ford slumped to the ground. “No,” he shouted, dropping the tools in his hands and running instinctively toward Ford’s unmoving body. He stopped short when the man turned the gun in his direction. The man hesitated and Jack thought he saw a spark of something like regret beneath the blind fury in his eyes. Then his expression hardened and his finger tightened on the trigger.

Jack’s eyes slammed shut.

Hands shoved him suddenly and he felt his back hit a wall. Lips covered his in a demanding kiss. He brought his hands up instinctively, his fingers tangling in Ford’s long hair, hearing the man growl appreciatively.

He pulled back, gasping for breath, as Ford’s hands began fumbling with his belt. “Bed,” he panted.

Ford’s response was to grab two fistfuls of his shirt, spin them both around and shove Jack toward the bed.

Jack gasped in surprise, dizzy from the movement, and reached to grip the bedspread, grounding himself. Except instead of soft fabric, his fingers closed around dry leaves. His eyes snapped open. ‘No...’

Ford – still dressed in that ugly, blood-stained jumpsuit – was on him before he could move, straddling his chest, hands wrapping around his neck.

“Will you stop,” he growled.

Jack just gurgled, struggling feebly as Ford’s hands tightened and the edges of his vision started to go black.

“James!”

Jack gasped as Ford’s grip let up suddenly, the pressure on his chest disappearing. He could hear Ford and Juliet arguing somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t make out much around his own heaving breaths. He thought he heard Ford say something about a bomb. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t move.

“Doc?”

Ford was beside him again, kneeling on the ground next to him, pressing a hand to his abdomen, a horrified expression on his face.

“Don’t move.”

Jack blinked. The ugly brown jumpsuit had disappeared, replaced by the leather jacket Ford always seemed to wear. Jack looked down, surprised to see blood seeping through Ford’s fingers where they pressed into his abdomen. Had he been shot?

“Sawyer...”

“Shh...” Ford’s blood-free hand stroked his face. “You’re okay, Jack. You’re safe.”

The hand on his abdomen stopped pressing and started stroking, as if trying to soothe him. “Wake up, darlin’. It’s okay.”

Jack felt a jolt go through him as he returned to consciousness suddenly, the world shifting around him, reorienting him. He was curled on his side in bed, Ford’s sleep-warmed body pressed against his back, one arm curled protectively around him, fingers still stroking his abdomen. He felt the detective’s low voice rumble pleasantly against his back as Ford went to speak again.

“You awake?”

Jack hummed an acknowledgement, still swimming up through layers of sleep.

Ford kissed his shoulder. “Same dream?”

“Mmm...”

“’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Jack mumbled. “’s just a dream.”

“I know. I was just hopin’ we’d gotten past those insecurities of yours.”

Jack carefully twisted his body around in Ford’s arms until he lay facing him. “I’m sorry. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”

“You don’t say.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Ford smiled. “I know.” He let his hand rest on Jack’s hip, thumb absently stroking sleep-warmed skin.

“What time is it?”

“’bout three a.m.”

Jack frowned. “Why are you still awake?”

“I *was* sleepin’ ‘til you started moanin’ and shakin’.”

“Oh...sorry.”

“Quit apologizin’.”

Jack smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Ford snorted. He leaned in to kiss Jack – a sweet, chaste kiss. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured.

Jack wanted to argue, but he was still so tired he had to fight just to keep his eyes open. He curled closer to Ford, tucking his head just beneath the detective’s chin. Ford responded by rolling onto his back, dragging Jack with him. Jack pressed against his side, head pillowed on his shoulder, hand resting over his heart. He let out an involuntary hiss as he slid a knee between Ford’s legs, feeling the muscles in his thighs twinge.

“Sorry.” Ford rubbed his back. “You’re gonna be sore for a while.”

Jack sighed and let himself sink into Ford and the mattress beneath them. He felt Ford’s hand slip over his on his chest, felt his breath gently stir the hair on top of his head and thought ‘it was worth it,’ as he drifted back to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Ford didn’t dream that night. At least not that he was aware of. He squinted at the clock beside the bed as he woke – nine o’clock – stretched, and rolled over. He frowned as he reached toward the other side of the bed, only to find cool, rumpled sheets. He sighed. Of course Jack was gone already.

He climbed out of bed and stumbled toward the kitchen, intent on getting a pot of coffee started before getting dressed and fetching the paper. Except that he could smell freshly perked coffee before he even reached the kitchen. He rounded the corner and found Jack, dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt, sitting at the table with the paper spread out in front of him and a coffee cup cradled in one hand.

“You’re still here,” Ford noted, surprised.

Jack sounded just as surprised. “You’re naked.”

Ford hesitated a moment, caught off guard, then shrugged and padded over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Jack re-folded the newspaper neatly and cleared his throat. “Uh, I was just going to start breakfast. French toast okay?”

Ford blinked at the ingredients already lined up by the stove. “Where’d you find fixins for that?”

“I went to the store. You were out of milk.”

Ford turned to face Jack, smiling with amusement as Jack averted his eyes and looked embarrassed. “C’mon now, don’t go all blushin’ virgin on me again,” he teased. He took a sip of coffee. “You buy the coffee too?”

Jack forced his eyes to stay focused on Ford’s face. “No, that’s yours. Is it too strong?”

Ford blinked incredulously. “You got my coffee to taste like this?” He sipped again and hummed appreciatively. “Might have to keep you ‘round just for this.” The shy smile Jack gave at the compliment made Ford smirk. “You say somethin’ ‘bout breakfast?”

Jack shook himself and started for the stove. “Uh, yeah...French toast okay?”

“’s great.” Ford watched Jack crack eggs into a bowl with exactly the sort of precision once would expect from a surgeon. “Guess I’ll go get dressed then,” he said after a minute, setting his cup down on the counter and sauntering from the room.

It took him about five minutes to put on some boxers and a well worn shirt and toss everything else from the bedroom floor into the laundry bag – smiling as he noticed Jack’s boxers were already in it.

He returned to the kitchen to the smell of cooking egg. He pressed himself to Jack’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his neck. “You’re gonna spoil me,” he murmured.

“You cook all the time at my house. Figured it was my turn,” Jack said simply.

The microwave dinged, cutting off whatever Ford was going to say.

“Can you get that,” Jack asked, sliding a spatula beneath one of the slices of bread in the pan and flipping it expertly.

Ford let go of him reluctantly to open the microwave, finding a familiar microwaveable jug of maple syrup. He brought it to the table and returned to Jack, running a hand possessively over his hip. “You know, you’re cute when you’re all domestic,” he murmured.

Jack turned, smoothly dodging Ford’s wandering hand and pushing a plate full of French toast at him, giving him a pointed look.

Ford took the hint, accepting the plate and retrieving his cup of coffee. He set everything down on the table, realized they didn’t have silverware, and went to fish some from the drawer. “You want s’more coffee,” he asked before he sat down.

“I can get it.”

Ford rolled his eyes and grabbed Jack’s cup, refilling it and adding what he thought was the right amount of sugar. The cell phone Jack had left next to his plate setting rang just as Ford moved to sit down. He glanced at the display. “It’s your momma. You need t’ get it?”

“No. If it’s important, she’ll try again. She probably just wants to know what weekend I have David so she can visit.

Ford shrugged and sat down, sipping at his coffee as he waited for Jack. “So your momma lives ‘round here,” he asked when the phone stopped ringing.

“About twenty minutes away. She only ever really visited to see David, but since Dad died...” Jack trailed off.

“She know ‘bout your nephew?”

Jack snapped off the burner and loaded his plate. “Yeah, but she doesn’t spend much time with Claire. I think it’s still awkward for her.” He brought his plate to the table and eyed Ford’s own untouched plate. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

“Sure I do,” Ford smiled. “He picked up his fork and cut off a bite of toast. “You get up early in the mornin’ to buy me food and cook breakfast? Least I can do is be polite.” He popped the bite in his mouth and hummed. “That’s good.”

Jack smiled and reached for the syrup.

“I’m serious. Don’t let last night’s dinner fool you – I’m usually fuckin’ awful in the kitchen. Pasta’s one’ve the only things I can’t screw up too bad.”

“You’ve made breakfast at my house,” Jack pointed out.

“And scrambled eggs and bacon. Pretty hard to screw that up too.”

Jack’s smile widened. “Okay. So what were you planning on having for breakfast?”

Ford thought for a minute, fork hovering halfway to his mouth. “Scrambled eggs and bacon?”

Jack laughed.

Ford shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t plan on anythin’ much. Wasn’t sure you’d still be here in the mornin’.”

Jack’s eyes lowered and he idly swirled a bite of French toast around in some spilled syrup.

“You had the dream again.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jack said firmly. “It’s just a dream.”

“I know. But it means you’re still scared of me.”

“I’m not sure it’s you I’m scared of anymore.”

Ford raised an eyebrow, silently prompting Jack to continue.

“I’m thirty-nine years old, James. Nearly forty. I should know who I am by now. I should be...settled. But ever since I met you...” He faltered, eyes darting to Ford’s face before refocusing on his plate. “Part of me thinks I’m too old to be making such a big change in my life.”

Ford swallowed his mouthful slowly. “And the other part?”

Jack looked up at him. “The other part is wondering why I wasted so many years of my life in denial.”

Ford took a big gulp of coffee and cleared his throat. “Y’know, you ain’t very good at talkin’ to next o’ kin, but from what I’ve seen you’re a damn good doc. I’m sure my partner ain’t the only one’t owes his life to you. And that boy you raised is a damn good kid. You may be slow when it comes to relationships, but those years sure as hell weren’t wasted.”

Jack sighed. “You know what I meant.”

“I ain’t finished.” Ford reached over and lightly slapped the back of Jack’s head.

“Ow,” Jack yelped, more out of surprise than pain. “What was that for?”

“For bein’ an idiot. You ain’t ever too old to start a new relationship. That’s the fear talkin’.”

“Relationship?”

Ford smiled at the dazed look in Jack’s eyes and leaned over the table, cradling the back of Jack’s head and kissing him softly. “I told you I ain’t interested in a one-night stand,” he murmured. He licked Jack’s lower lip teasingly, then sat back and dug back into his breakfast.

Jack cleared his throat, took a sip of coffee, and fidgeted with his fork for a minute. “So, uh...what were you planning on doing today?”

“Well, long’s you’re here,” Ford said around a mouthful of food. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll finish breakfast and then take you back to bed and try to make up for lost time.”

Jack gave a sharp, barking laugh of surprise. “No, I’m serious.”

“So ‘m I.”

Jack’s smile melted slowly, a flush creeping up his neck. He swallowed thickly and refocused on his breakfast. He barely registered the noise when his phone rang.

“You gonna get that,” Ford asked with an amused smile.

Jack startled and fumbled to answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Your mum just called,” Claire said by way of greeting. “I told her you were out for a run and you’d ring her back.”

“Oh...um...thanks. I was just making breakfast.”

Claire made a noise that sounded like a cross between a giggle and a snort. “Sure. So was it good?”

“What?”

“The sex, Jack. Oh, please tell me you didn’t sleep on the couch.”

Jack could feel his ears beginning to redden. “No, I...I didn’t...” Ford continued to smile at him and it made his blush deepen. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

Ford chuckled and finished his last bite of toast.

“I’m a single mother, Jack. Who knows when I’ll have time to date again? I have to live vicariously through you now. I’m not asking for details, just a yes or no – was it good?”

Jack watched Ford get up from the table and rinse his dishes in the sink. “Yeah,” he said almost absently.

“Thank God. So you’ll be staying all weekend then?”

“I’ll be in the shower,” Ford murmured, squeezing Jack’s shoulder lightly on his way out of the kitchen.

“Was that him? Oh god, I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“No, I told you we were just having breakfast.” Jack swore he could hear Ford chuckling from the next room.

“Oh, I thought you were just being polite. Well, I’m going to let you call your mum, but after that I want you to forget about us. All of us. I don’t want you thinking about anything but that gorgeous man you’re shagging for the rest of the weekend.”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Okay, I’m hanging up now. I love you. Give Aaron a kiss for me.”

“I love you too,” she said sweetly. “But I’m not kidding. Go shag his brains out.”

“Okay, goodbye.” Jack hung up before Claire could say anything else, shook his head and began dialing his mother’s number.


	18. Chapter 18

Ford was just about to shut off the water when he heard the bathroom door open. He pulled the shower curtain open and blinked at Jack, whose shirt was already off and neatly folded on the counter. “Everything okay?”

Jack shrugged. “Fine. Claire says hi.”

Ford smiled. “Hurry up ‘n get in here ‘fore the water gets cold.”

Jack’s lips twitched in the barest hint of a shy smile. He finished removing his clothes and piling them neatly on the counter before stepping into the tub. He was drawn immediately into Ford’s arms, spun around and kissed fiercely. He moaned and clutched Ford’s shoulders to steady himself. Between the hot water pounding his back, Ford’s body pressed firmly against his front and the kisses that left him gasping for breath he could feel himself quickly becoming dizzy and overwhelmed with lust.

And then suddenly Ford was pulling back, laughing as Jack whimpered in protest. “I’ll wait for you in the bedroom,” he murmured, giving one last lingering swipe of his tongue over Jack’s lower lip before slowly stepping from the shower.

Jack showered quickly after that. When he got out, he found Ford had taken the clothes he’d left on the counter, leaving a large white towel in their place. Jack wrapped it around his waist and padded back to the bedroom to find Ford lounging on the bed, a coffee cup in one hand and the newspaper in the other. “What happened to my clothes?”

Ford looked at him over the reading glasses perched on his nose. “You plannin’ on goin’ somewhere?”

Jack’s mind drifted for a moment as his eyes traced the line of Ford’s abs – his shirt seemed to have disappeared too. “No...not right now...”

Ford smiled and set his cup down on the bedside table. “Then you don’t need ‘em.” He began refolding his newspaper.

“Are you trying to prevent me leaving?”

Ford chuckled. “Nah. Just like havin’ you naked.” He set the paper next to the coffee cup and perched the glasses on top of it like a paperweight. Then he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached out a hand to Jack, inviting. “C’mere.”

Jack tried not to look too eager as he approached the bed, but the look on Ford’s face and the promise conveyed by every kiss and every touch the detective had bestowed on him so far that morning made warmth pool in his abdomen. He bit back a gasp as Ford hooked two fingers under the towel the minute he came within range and tugged, simultaneously pulling Jack between his knees and unraveling the material, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor.

Ford paused a moment to take in the sight of Jack naked in the morning light – something he hadn’t gotten the chance to see when he woke up. He raked his nails gently down Jack’s thighs and watched the goose bumps appear on the doctor’s skin.

He leaned in to kiss Jack's abdomen, humming encouragingly as Jack's hand came up to cradle his head. He slowly moved lower, his hands coming up to cup Jack's backside, steadying him.

Jack tightened his fingers in Ford's hair before the detective reached his cock. "Wh...wait. Stop."

Ford stopped immediately and looked up worriedly. "What's wrong?"

Jack smiled and gently detangled his fingers from Ford's hair. "It's okay. I just...I wanted..." He lowered himself slowly until he knelt on the floor between Ford's already spread knees and reached hesitantly for the waistband of his boxers. "Is this okay?"

"Jesus," Ford breathed. "You done it before?"

Jack's eyes dropped to his hand, which fidgeted nervously. "No."

Ford nodded. Of course he hadn't. "Then get up. No sense hurtin' yourself." Jack moved quickly to his feet as Ford stood up, kicked off his boxers and climbed into the bed. Ford smiled and held out a hand to him. "C'mon."

Jack took Ford's hand and let himself be dragged forward until he was kneeling once more between Ford's thighs. "How is this any different?"

"Easier on the knees. You'll thank me later."

Jack smiled nervously and turned his focus to the half-hard cock bobbing between Ford's legs. "You'll uh...you'll tell me if I do something wrong, right?"

"You ain't gonna do anythin' wrong. Just wrap your lips over your teeth and don't let your mouth go dry."

Jack gave him a skeptical look.

Ford chuckled and reached to cup Jack's cheek, gently rubbing the skin with his thumb. "You've gotten blowjobs before, right?"

Jack nodded.

"Well, all right then. Just start with what feels good to you and take it from there." He brushed a quick kiss to Jack's lips and then laid back, stretching his arms toward the headboard.

Jack almost changed his mind - certain he would screw up so badly that their fledgling relationship would dissolve somehow. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, told himself he was being ridiculous and turned his focus on Ford's upturned cock. He took it between his fingers gingerly and tentatively licked the tip. The salty, slightly bitter taste of precome wasn't pleasant, but something about it sent a tiny thrill through him - especially when combined with the small gasp it drew from Ford. He licked around the sensitive head for a while, letting his fingers play over the rest of the length, finding the sweet spot just beneath the crown and pressing into it until Ford hissed.

"You're doin' great, darlin'," Ford encouraged, his voice strained and slightly breathless.

Jack was pretty sure - by the strain in the detective's voice and the throbbing he could feel against his tongue - that the statement was just a passive-aggressive plea for him to stop teasing already and get on with the main event. He took a couple deep breaths - at least as deep as he could manage without pulling back entirely - steeled himself, wrapped his lips firmly over his teeth and took the first couple inches into his mouth at once. 

"Fuck!"

Jack heard a slapping sound and looked up to find Ford gripping the headboard tightly, staring at the ceiling. He bobbed his head once experimentally and felt it: the slight hitch in Ford's hips that told him the detective was trying very hard to keep a tight rein on his arousal for Jack's sake. All he wanted to do was grab Jack's head and thrust. Jack was grateful he didn't, but thought he would have to try harder if he wanted to make up for it. He reached for Ford's hips, pressing them into the bed hard as he set up a rhythm. Bob, suck, lick.

Ford groaned, the sound low and throaty, raw. "Yeah...like that...little harder."

Jack sucked harder, jabbed his tongue into the sensitive spot he'd discovered before and pushed down harder when he felt Ford try to thrust.

"Stop," Ford gasped a minute later. "I'm gonna..."

Jack responded by pulling back until just the head of Ford's cock remained in his mouth and sucking for all he was worth, letting go of Ford's hips so he could stimulate the rest of the length with his hands.

Ford cursed, arched his back and came with a wild yell.

Jack had thought he was prepared, but the sudden, powerful jet of semen hitting the back of his throat proved to be more than he could handle. He pulled back, coughing and gagging, his eyes watering. He covered his mouth instinctively and felt wetness on his chin.

Ford reached for the box of kleenex nearby and stuffed a wad of tissue into Jack's hand, then reached for his coffee cup. "Here...drink."

Jack gulped at the lukewarm coffee until the worst of the choking fit passed. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, mortified as Ford wiped at his chin with another kleenex.

"It happens." Ford shrugged, taking the cup back and returning it to the bedside table. "'s why I told ya to stop." He took the soiled tissues from Jack's hand and leaned in to press a brief kiss to his swelling lips. "Go get cleaned up."

Jack nodded and stumbled off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom.

Ford wiped himself off with a couple more tissues and laid back, closing his eyes, listening to the sound of the water running in the bathroom and feeling a warm contentment spread through his body. 

"You were right about the water," Jack muttered as he returned to the bedroom.

"Mmm. Think it's in the pipes. Old buildin'." Ford held out a hand invitingly as he felt the mattress dip under Jack's weight. He didn't open his eyes yet though, still reveling in the warm lethargy.

"I'm sorry."

Ford cracked an eye open. Jack hadn't moved from the edge of the bed - wasn't even looking at him. "For what?"

Jack turned and Ford caught the look of disgust. "For that. Obviously I'm bad at this."

"The fuck are you talkin' about? And get your ass over here."

Jack looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. He slid onto the mattress, laying on his side, his hand supporting his head. Close to Ford but not actually touching him. 

"You don't always gotta be perfect, you know."

"I'm not trying to be *perfect*," Jack protested. "I'm just not any *good*."

"Oh, believe me, darlin', it was good."

Jack snorted. "Stop trying to make me feel better."

"I ain't. Was it the best goddamn blowjob I ever got in my life? No, but I never expected it t'be. That takes practice." Ford didn't add that he hoped to provide Jack with more opportunities to practice, but he figured that was basically implied anyway. "Right now though..." He rolled toward Jack, slipping an arm around his waist and giving a gentle tug to bring their bodies flush. "'s my turn."

Jack squirmed, trying to push Ford away half heartedly. "No, it's okay. You don't have to..." 

Ford noticed then that Jack was completely flaccid - probably due to a combination of his earlier nervousness and the choking fit. He muffled Jack's protest with a kiss. "Just wanna touch ya darlin'. Don't gotta go nowhere 'f you don't want it to. Relax."

Jack gave in after a short hesitation, letting his jaw go slack as Ford moved to kiss him again.

Ford, Jack decided, was a really *good* kisser. He lost track of how long they laid there, Ford's lips and tongue exploring every inch of his mouth and face while his hands wandered - the touches stirring a slow building desire in him. He let his own hands wander, tracing the lines of muscle in Ford's back and chest, the ridges of his ribs, the dimples at the base of his spine.

By the time Ford started kissing down his neck, Jack's body was pliant and eager, his cock beginning to stir with anticipation. Still, Ford took his time. He wanted to make this last as long as possible - drive Jack out of his mind with pleasure and give him the best goddamn orgasm he'd ever had. Part of him thought he might be doing it as some primitive way of making Jack *his*, but the bigger part of him simply couldn't get enough of him. Not after the taste he had already gotten. He loved making the wound up tight doctor come undone.

He nudged Jack onto his back and started tracing over the tattoos on his left arm with lips and tongue - biting at a couple of the brightly colored stars. When he was satisfied he'd mapped out the entire design he moved to Jack's chest - sucking and biting his nipples until he squirmed. He licked and nipped at Jack's skin, slowly working his way down his body, tracing the raised skin around the appendectomy scar with his tongue.

Jack closed his eyes and concentrated on the way every touch and every kiss sent a tiny thrill through him. He gasped as Ford pressed gentle kisses to the base of his cock, feeling long, soft hair brushing heated skin. He spread his legs wider at Ford's gentle coaxing and moaned as the detective continued exploring, stubbornly avoiding the one area that was begging for his touch. He gasped, eyes flying open, body going still as Ford's tongue flicked against his opening. It was the barest of touches - light enough that Jack could almost believe it was accidental - and Ford moved on before he had a chance to really think about it.

Ford worked his way back up Jack's body just as slowly has he had gone down and by the time he reached his neck Jack was moaning almost continuously.

"Turn over."

Jack didn't really want to lay on his stomach - not now that his cock was swollen and straining for Ford's touch. But Ford's voice had turned deep and thick with promise. It made Jack shiver - made his cock twitch. He glanced down at Ford's cock, biting back a groan as he realized it was half hard again. He rolled slowly onto his hands and knees, feeling Ford move away momentarily, only to return with one of the pillows, his warm hands gently guiding Jack's hips to rest on it. Jack fumbled for a moment, unsure of what to do with his arms, before he finally just folded them under his head.

Ford leaned low over Jack, brushing his lips against his upturned cheek. "Just relax," he murmured.

Jack nodded shakily and closed his eyes as Ford pressed his lips to the tattoo on his shoulder blade.

Ford moved a little faster this time, very conscious of the way Jack's hips twitched impatiently (not to mention his own rekindling arousal). He traced along Jack's spine, feeling every ridge of vertebrae beneath the smooth skin. He ran his fingers lightly down Jack's sides until the doctor's breathing came out in sharp huffs and his body twitched, trying instinctively to escape. The same light pressure down the backs and insides of Jack's thighs earned him some lustful groans. The groans deepened as Ford's hands finally reached his ass, massaging the muscles.

Ford kissed and licked at Jack's lower back for a minute, just above the tailbone, hearing Jack's breathing stutter a bit. "I wanna try somethin'. I promise it'll be good, but you let me know if you need to stop." He raised his head so he could see the upturned side of Jack's face. "Okay?"

Jack hesitated and Ford feared he had pushed too far too fast. He opened his mouth to apologize, to take it back and move on, and was surprised when he saw Jack nod tightly. 

"You sure? You're not just sayin' what you think I wanna hear again?"

Jack shook his head - the movement small, tremulous.

Best not to let him second guess himself, Ford figured. He let his fingers massage a little more, soothing, reassuring. "Just relax, baby."

Jack tried but the thought of what Ford was about to do sent spikes of conflicting emotions through him. It was wrong to want it, he thought. Wrong and dirty and he was sure he would never be able to bring himself to reciprocate. But...he felt his cock throb almost painfully, pressing into the pillow beneath him. He wanted it. God help him, he *wanted* it. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and tried not to think about what that meant.

He gasped as he felt Ford's tongue circle his opening. He held his breath as Ford repeated the move a second and third time. By the fourth time he was squirming impatiently, his breath coming in shallow gasps. An undignified whimper erupted from him when Ford's tongue finally plunged inside. Ford held his hips steady and set up a pattern of alternating swirling licks and shallow thrusts, occasionally venturing deeper as Jack's body finally relaxed into his ministrations.

Ford continued like that for several minutes, gently coaxing Jack open, his own cock throbbing eagerly. He was pretty sure Jack was only half aware at best of the noises spilling from him in a constant stream. Moans, growls, incoherent pleas and abandoned whimpers, all liberally sprinkled with a variety of curses. Ford wanted to keep going just so he could keep listening to the helpless sounds of pleasure, but he just didn't have the discipline. 

He tore himself away and lightly slapped Jack's hip."On your knees," he growled before diving for the bedside table.

Jack pushed himself up shakily, shivering as the cool air of the bedroom brushed his damp, overheated skin. He settled on his hands and knees and breathed deeply, trying to calm his trembling. He felt feverish and weak, his cock swollen and heavy, straining and desperate for attention. He couldn't remember ever feeling so overwhelmed during sex and wondered if it was normal. He started as Ford's hands found his hips.

"Easy, darlin'. Just stay nice and relaxed."

Jack closed his eyes and let Ford's hands guide him into position. He moaned as he felt the tip of Ford's slick cock press against his opening. 

His eyes flew open again with a startled cry as Ford pressed inside steadily without any further warning. There was no pain this time - just pressure and a stretching of muscles.

Ford froze. "You okay?"

Jack opened and closed his mouth a few times before he settled on a nod. He pushed back against Ford, needing him to start moving but unable to voice the words. He moaned again as Ford gave an experimental thrust - one long, slow drag in and out. "Oh...oh fuck..."

"Like that?" Ford's voice was low, tight with restrained excitement.

Jack nodded again. "Ye...yeah." 

Ford set up a rhythm of long, rolling thrusts, letting his hands smooth over the broad expanse of his partner's back, wandering around to his sides and over his abdomen, feeling his heaving breaths. They were going too slow and they both knew it, but Ford thought if he had the patience he could keep going like this until they simply fell apart.

Well, maybe not exactly like this.

Jack whimpered in protest as Ford pulled out suddenly. 

"Headboard," he said simply, his voice tight and slightly breathless.

Jack crawled closer to the headboard, stumbling a little in his advanced state of arousal. His fingers curled over the top of the smooth wooden board. He sighed as Ford followed and pressed tightly against his back, warm hands steadying him, pulling him back into a hard body. 

"Yeah," Ford murmured, his voice rumbling right in Jack's ear, making him shiver. "That's it."

Jack thrust his hips back impatiently.

Ford chuckled. "Easy, darlin'. We got plenty a time." He let his hands wander over Jack's torso, lightly pinching his nipples. "Wanna make it last."

Jack groaned, the sound more high pitched and undignified than he would have liked, but he was too aroused to be embarrassed. "No more teasing."

"No more teasing," Ford promised. "Just wanna take it nice and slow. That okay?" 

Ford's hands cupped Jack's hips, holding him steady as he thrust once, gently, the damp tip of his cock pressing into Jack's lower back. Jack arched against him. 'Yes,' he thought feverishly. 'Anything!' "Please," was all he managed to choke out, his voice strangled and breathless.

One hand slipped between them and then Ford was sliding back inside him, slowly. Too slowly. Jack arched his back and moaned loudly. He tried to push back, to thrust, but Ford's hands clamped down on his hips, holding him still. He struggled for a moment longer, then gave in with a whimper, gripping the headboard and letting Ford guide him, focusing on the feel of the thick length opening him up, the angle allowing him in deeper than before.

Ford stilled when he could go no further and pressed the full length of his body against Jack, one arm going around his chest while the other steadied his hip. "That's it. Easy..." He rolled his hips in a slow thrust and groaned. 'God, Jack, you feel so good." 

Jack moaned softly, arching his back to open himself up more fully to Ford as he began a maddeningly slow rhythm of thrusts. Ford's hands went back to wandering aimlessly, purposefully avoiding his straining cock. "You feel that," Ford asked, his lips brushing Jack's ear, the warm puffs of his breath gently tickling the delicate shell. "Feel how deep I am inside you? Feel how hard you are?"

A tiny whimper slipped from Jack's throat and he felt Ford's lips curl into a smile against his neck. 

"You're so tight..." Ford groaned and buried his face in Jack's neck. "So fuckin' good...could do this all goddamn day." But he couldn't, really. He could already feel his control slipping. It was taking all of his self control to not grab the headboard and just pound into Jack's welcoming body until he came. He slipped one hand between Jack's legs, wrist brushing against straining length as he pressed his fingers to the spot just above where his own cock moved in an increasingly unsteady rhythm. 

Jack cried out softly and reached for Ford, tangling his fingers in his hair and pulling him closer, arching and twisting to meet him in a frantic, breathless kiss. 

"You close?" Ford panted, nipping Jack's lower lip. 

Jack whimpered and untangled his hand from Ford's hair so he could reach for his cock.

"That's it," Ford murmured. He covered Jack's hand with one of his own, entwining their fingers and letting Jack control the speed of their movements. "Come for me. Wanna feel it."

Jack gasped against Ford's lips, unable to focus enough to continue the kiss, but not wanting to pull away. He could feel it building fast - heat pooling low in his abdomen, his skin tingling, tiny helpless noises sprinkled with incoherent curses escaping his throat because he just couldn't hold them in any longer. And then Ford's other hand slipped between his legs, cupping and squeezing his balls, and he was gone. Everything went fuzzy and he distantly heard a wild shout that he thought might have come from him. 

Ford continued to fuck him through it, riding the waves of his orgasm, groaning as the tight channel spasmed around him. His hands kept working between Jack's legs, forcing Jack's own slackening hand to move along his pulsing cock, trying to draw out the pleasure for as long as possible. When he couldn't hold back his own orgasm any longer he let go, gripping Jack's hips hard enough to bruise and thrusting hard and fast. Jack sobbed, his wet hand fumbling for the headboard again, holding on as Ford pounded into him. It was only a minute or so before Ford was coming with a loud groan, his movements stuttering to a halt.

Ford gentled immediately, stroking Jack's trembling abdomen, trailing gossamer kisses along his shoulder. "You okay?"

Jack nodded shakily, his breath too labored and his brain too scrambled to attempt speech quite yet. 

Ford gave him one last kiss behind the ear and then pulled away, reaching for some tissues to clean them up a little.

Jack slumped to the bed, swallowing a groan as the muscles in his thighs screamed. He had been able to ignore the minor aches from the night before, but now he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move from the bed for the rest of the weekend. He closed his eyes, feeling the tiny aftershocks course through him, hissing as Ford tried to wipe some of the smeared lubricant from his skin.

"Sorry." Ford kissed his shoulder in apology and moved just far enough away to toss the soiled tissues into the waste basket. He slipped back onto the bed alongside Jack, nudging him onto his side, pulling the hastily tossed-aside sheet back up over their cooling bodies. He hummed as he licked Jack's swollen lower lip. "Don't think I could ever get enough o' that."

Jack sighed and let himself melt into Ford, every muscle in his body relaxing. "Yeah," he breathed. "Feel like I'm stoned."

Ford chuckled. "Have you ever *been* stoned before?"

Jack blinked at Ford, suddenly remembering he was talking to a cop. "I've...experimented."

Ford grinned. "Knew there was a wild side to ya." His hands wandered, fingers exploring as much of Jack's skin as he could reach, unable to stop touching him. 

"I was in college."

"Ah. well, that explains it then."

Jack smiled and Ford felt his breath catch a little at the sight. He reached to trace the line of Jack's jaw with his finger. 

"I've been thinkin' 'bout this since I first saw you in that waitin' room."

"Thinking about what?"

"This. Us. I wanted you since I first met you."

"Your partner was in critical condition and possibly paralyzed and you were thinking about fucking me?"

"Okay, maybe I didn't think about it until later."

Jack laughed.

"I mean it though. And it weren't just about gettin' you in bed. Though the last twelve hours've been fuckin' amazin'. I just knew I had to see you again."

Jack smiled, sighing as Ford's fingers drew a lazy pattern on his lower back. He reached up to run his fingers through Ford's hair, toying with the ends and pushing strands behind his ear. He tugged lightly and Ford took the hint, leaning in for a soft kiss. 

He was just losing himself completely in the kiss when he heard a muffled ring. He pulled back and looked in the direction of the noise - the dresser against the wall. "Is that my phone?"

Ford groaned and climbed from the bed, reaching the dresser in three steps and digging the offending phone from Jack's pants, which he had hidden in one of the drawers. Jack followed, but Ford bat away his hand when he tried to reach for the cell, pushing the answer button and grinning at him. "Jack's busy right now. Can I take a message?"

He had expected the moment of silence on the other end of the line, figuring it was Jack's mother trying to reach him again and she would be startled to hear a strange man answering his phone. But it wasn't a woman's voice he heard next. 

"James?"

"Oh...hey, David." Jack's eyes widened and he reached for the phone again. Ford backed away from his grasping fingers.

"Is my dad still at your place?"

"Yep. Wanna talk to 'im?"

"So...does this mean you guys are like, officially dating now?"

"I guess so."

David made an indistinct, muffled noise, as if he had pressed his hand over the receiver for a moment. Then, in a tone of voice that clearly suggested he was grinning, he said "you owe me ten bucks."

Ford laughed. He had almost forgotten about the unofficial bet he had made with David while they had been playing cards the night Aaron was born. "You got it, kid." He caught the impatient, narrow-eyed glare Jack was giving him and decided he should get off the phone sooner than later. "Listen, I think your dad really wants to talk to you. I'll see ya later."

"You'd better!"

Jack practically ripped the phone from his hands, the tips of his ears turning red. He looked like he'd been caught doing something he knew he should feel guilty for. It was cute, but Ford vowed he would cure Jack of this shame that seemed to accompany any pleasure he found once and for all. "David? Is everything okay?"

Ford brushed a kiss to Jack's cheek as he slipped past him on his way back to the bed. He grabbed the coffee cup still on the bedside table and sipped at it, wincing. It was ice cold.

He was only half listening to Jack's side of the conversation, but as he was leaving the room to go top up his cup again he heard an exasperated "I don't care if it's boring. She's your grandmother." Ford chuckled to himself all the way to the kitchen.


	19. Chapter 19

Ford didn't know how long they had been kissing, but he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, he could happily spend the rest of the month in this bed. "I love you," he murmured against Jack's lips.

Jack smiled and nudged him onto his back, straddling him.

An incoherent curse exploded from Ford's lips as the alarm went off in the other room.

Jack groaned. "I'll get it." He heaved himself from the bed with obvious reluctance.

"You better get back in here fast 'r I just might start without you." Ford smirked as Jack slipped on a pair of boxers and practically darted from the room.

The beeping stopped a minute later and Ford heard a muffled thump.

"You okay in there, Doc?"

Jack's muffled - or perhaps impossibly distant - voice called back. "Sawyer!"

Ford leaped from the bed, running from the bedroom past the desk with the offending computer on it until he found a door that he knew would take him outside.

He emerged into a familiar looking jungle. "Jack?"

Some instinct he didn't quite understand led him to run toward the clearing on his left. There, he found Jack wearing an unflattering brown jumpsuit and crouched over something with large, blinking numbers on it. The numbers were counting down. "Doc!"

Jack turned, looking guilty for a second, then determined. "Sawyer..." He held his hands out in front of him, placating, stepping between Ford and the bomb.

"What the hell d'you think you're doin'?"

"It's the only way. I have to fix this."

"Are you outta your goddamn mind?!" Ford tried to push past Jack. He had a half-coherent thought that he had to stop that bomb from going off, even if he had absolutely no clue how to disarm it.

"No!" Jack lunged for him.

Ford punched him reflexively and Jack reeled, dazed for a moment, before coming at him again. The fight didn't last very long, but they were both bruised and bleeding by the time Ford pinned Jack to the ground. Jack gurgled as Ford's hands wrapped around his neck.

"Will you stop," Ford growled.

"Ngh..." Jack clawed at his hands, weak and woozy from the last blow to the head.

'It would be so easy to kill him.' The thought ran, unbidden, through Ford's head, scaring him. He didn't want to hurt Jack. 'But if I don't, he'll kill us all.'  
"James!"

Ford looked up, startled, to find Juliet standing at the edge of the clearing. He didn't have time to register the object in her hand before he felt something strike the side of his neck. He yelped and reached up, fumbling for the dart piercing his throat and yanking it away. But it was too late. Everything was already going fuzzy. He felt himself start to fall as Jack shoved him away.

He heard a woman yelp as he hit the pavement. He blinked furiously to clear the fog from his head and saw two figures crouched at the end of the dark alleyway. He climbed slowly to his feet and staggered toward them, moving faster as he got closer and the scene before him became clearer. A woman with dark, curly hair crouched over a man who was clutching at his side, groaning in pain.

"Jack!"

Ford dropped to his knees beside the doctor, his hands instinctively going to Jack's side, covering his own. He felt blood well up between his fingers within seconds.

The woman brought her hand to her ear and Ford caught a glimpse of a badge hanging around her neck as it glinted in the light from the streetlamp out by the curb. "Man down," she said urgently. "I need an ambulance. Are you okay?"

It took Ford a moment to realize this last part was aimed at him. He nodded and tore his eyes from Jack's face long enough to scan the area, taking in the gun in the woman's other hand, held at ready and the large body crumpled behind a dumpster. "You get him?"

She nodded and reached to squeeze his shoulder with the hand not holding the gun. "You stay with him. I'm going to find Claire."

Ford nodded and focused on Jack as the woman ran off. "It's okay, baby. You're gonna be all right."

"Sawyer," Jack moaned, reaching blindly for Ford's arm.

"I'm here."

Jack's fingers twisted in the material of Ford's jacket as he fought to control his labored breaths. "Love...you."

"I love you too, darlin'. Now stay with me."

Jack's eyes started to slip shut. "It...worked."

"What are you..." The question died on Ford's lips as Jack's head lolled to the side and his hand went limp, falling from Ford's jacket to flop awkwardly on the ground. "No! Jack!" He abandoned his futile efforts to stop the bleeding and reached to cradle Jack's head, blood smearing across his still face. A low, keening wail began to build in his chest. 'No, please,' he thought frantically. 'Not him.'

"James!"

Ford's eyes snapped open. He caught a brief glimpse of Jack - very much alive and looking at him with concern - before his eyeslids drooped shut again. He groaned. "Damn dream," he grumbled sleepily. He felt Jack push his hair back from his face, his fingers barely brushing Ford's skin. Ford reached up and caught the hand, bringing it to his lips.

"What happened?"

"You were dyin' in my arms. Again." Ford squeezed the hand he was holding, reassuring himself, and blinked several times until the last of the sleep fog dissipated. "Caught the guy 't killed you this time, though. 'least somebody did." He frowned as he tried to recall the woman's face. He knew he had seen her somewhere before.

"Somebody?"

Something clicked and he suddenly remembered how he had met her. "Witness on a case a couple months ago. Just 'fore I met you. Bank robbery, I think. Pretty girl. Don't know why I'd be dreamin' about her."

Jack shrugged. "I dream about patients sometimes."

Ford smirked. "Do ya now?"

"Not like that," Jack protested. "You know what I mean."

"Mmm..." Ford lifted himself up and stretched across the gap between them so he could kiss Jack.

They spent several long minutes just kissing and touching, gravitating toward each other until their limbs became comfortably tangled.

"Do you think maybe they're more than just dreams," Jack asked.

"Thought you said you weren't afraid 'f me anymore."

Jack brushed his fingertips against the spot near Ford's lips that dimpled when he smiled. "I'm not, I just...don't you wonder why we keep having the same dreams? I always see you choking me. You always see me being attacked."

"I'm a cop. People 'round me get hurt a lot. Suppose I'm afraid I won't be able to protect you if somethin' bad happened." Ford sighed, shaking off the bad feelings that accompanied that thought. "But in my defense, I always see you tryin' to blow us up before I'm chokin' you."

Jack flinched. "You saw the bomb again?"

"Yep. Big one. With big, blinkin' numbers."

Jack shook his head. "See? This is what I mean. I'm seeing that too now. Only in my dream, I think I'm saving us, not killing us. Why do we keep seeing the same things?"

"You're not believing that stuff about past lives or parallel universes or whatever David's hippie teacher is sayin', are you?"

Jack sighed. "I don't know. Is it really so crazy to think there's a reason we were drawn to each other?"

"What? Like fate?"

"Yeah. Something like that," Jack mumbled, his eyes no longer meeting Ford's gaze. Now that he heard it out loud, it sounded kind of stupid.

"I've always felt like somethin' was drivin' me to you," Ford finally admitted thoughtfully. "Guess I ain't given much thought to what it was. Not sure I'm ready for that sci-fi stuff, though."

Jack smiled and leaned in to kiss Ford again. "What time is it," he asked when they came up for air. He shivered as Ford's tongue swiped the sensitive skin beneath his ear.

"Don't care," Ford muttered.

'Yeah,' Jack thought as he sank further into the bed, reaching to tangle his fingers in Ford's hair. 'I don't either.'


	20. Chapter 20

(Six months later)

'I am getting too old for this,' Jack thought as he tried in vain to stretch a particularly stubborn kink out of his back. The idea that everything would be faster and more efficient now that it was done by computer was laughable. Paperwork was still just as time consuming as ever and required just as much time spent cramped behind a desk - time that was made bearable only with regular coffee breaks. There was a coffee shop in the hospital that had drinkable coffee, but when he wasn't totally swamped, he preferred the one down the block. The barista that worked the afternoon shift knew exactly how he liked his coffee and was always just the right amount of friendly without being artificially perky.

"Hey, stranger," she said by way of greeting. "I was beginning to think that hot boyfriend of yours was keeping you hidden away somewhere."

Jack laughed as he fished change from his wallet. "How are classes going, Kelly?"

"There aren't enough hours in the day for all the homework I have. And it's almost midterms. But that's what coffee is for, right?" She took the money Jack handed her, barely glancing at it to verify it was the correct amount before dumping it in the till.

Jack smiled. "Right."

"Any big surgeries today," Kelly asked as she moved over behind the hissing, industrial sized coffee makers.

"No. Just consults and paperwork."

"Sounds exciting. Better hurry so you can get back to that." She rolled her eyes and smiled as she handed him his coffee.

"Thanks."

"So where is James and why is he not bringing you your coffee today?"

Jack glanced around the shop. It was well past the morning and lunch rush, so there were only a couple business people on laptops and college students buried in textbooks scattered around the seating area. For all intents and purposes, they were alone. Which meant she was probably bored and eager to talk to him. And since he wasn't in any hurry, he was willing to oblige. "He's working a case. I don't know the details. He just got a call this morning." Jack had gotten a voice mail about an hour earlier that he had considered listening to on his way to the coffee shop. He had decided to ignore it since he had learned the hard way that Ford's messages were usually not something he wanted to hear when he was in public or at work. He could imagine this one included a graphic description of just how good Jack's lips felt wrapped around his cock that morning before they were so rudely interrupted and a detailed account of what he planned to do to return the favor later.

"Sounds like he's having a more interesting day than we are."

"Maybe."

The door to the shop dinged as a woman in a business suit entered.

"It's nice to see you again, Jack," Kelly said, reluctantly backing toward the register again. "Say hi to James."

Jack gave a small gesture of acknowledgement. "Good luck with the midterms."

****************

Jack was just settling back behind his desk when the phone perched in the corner of it rang.

"Jack Shephard,"

"Jack! It's Miles. Jim's been shot."

For a moment, Jack forgot how to breathe. He almost didn't hear Miles' next words around the rush of blood in his ears from his racing heartbeat and the frantic stream of thoughts tumbling through his head. 'Shot he's been shot dying he can't be dead just saw him this morning can't be dead.' "Where," he finally managed even though his mouth felt numb, his tongue too thick to form the words he needed.

"We're almost at your hospital now." Jack could hear the ambulance sirens in the background. "Jack, he's..."

Jack hung up before Ford's partner could say anything more and rushed from his office, the paperwork he had been working on forgotten beneath the half-full cup of cooling coffee.

****************

There is a very good reason why doctors don't operate on loved ones. Jack knew this - knew that he wouldn't be able to stay calm and detatched if it was Ford's skin he was cutting into, his blood spilling onto the sterile operating room floor - but that didn't stop him from thinking that he *should* be in there.

"He's going to be fine," Miles said for what must have been the fortieth time. It had taken the better part of a half hour for him to calm Jack down. They sat in plastic chairs in the waiting room, Jack bent over with his head in his hands, Miles' hand on his back, partly to reassure him and partly to keep him from getting up and pacing anxiously again. The other occupant of the waiting room was obviously nervous enough waiting for news on the poor soul she was keeping vigil for. Seeing a man with a hospital badge lose it would hardly help either of them.

"Why wasn't he wearing a vest?"

Miles sighed. "It was a deep cover operation."

Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What happened?"

"I can't tell you any of the details," Miles said hesitantly. "But we should have enough to put the man who shot Jim away for several lifetimes."

Jack nodded numbly. He knew he should find that reassuring, but he didn't. He knew the doctors who were working to save Ford, but if it was too late... He stumbled upright suddenly, muttering something that might or might not have been fully coherent about using the restroom and heading for the nearest men's room.

He splashed water on his face and stood over one of the sinks in the mercifully empty bathroom for several minutes, his fingers gripping the cool porcelain, drops of water making lazy trails down to his chin. It wasn’t until then that he remembered the message Ford had left on his voicemail earlier.

He fumbled the phone from his pocket, suddenly desperate to hear the man’s voice even if it was some awful, cliched filth Ford left just to annoy him.

“Doc,” Ford’s voice drawled in his ear. “Just needed to hear your voice. Uh...” His voice became distant for a moment as he directed his next sentence to somebody nearby. “Just a minute. I gotta go, darlin’. I love you.”

Jack’s breath caught in his throat and he had to play the message one more time to be sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Yes, for the first time outside of their bizarre shared dreams, Ford had said the words neither of them had been brave enough to say yet.

I love you.

The words echoed in his mind, over and over, until finally Jack couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.


	21. Chapter 21

Ford had been shot once before in his career. Well, technically he had been shot twice, but one had been a graze that barely counted for anything in his mind. The other time the bullet had lodged in his bicep. It wasn't a fatal wound, but it hurt like a son of a bitch and had taken months of physical therapy before he could even use it for things he used to take for granted. Like reaching into the cupboard for a box of cereal. That was nothing compared to this though. Even through the fog of painkillers the hospital kept flowing steadily through him, he could feel the dull throbbing in his abdomen. He groaned and tried to sink back into the welcome oblivion of sleep but something wouldn't let him. 

"James?"

Oh. Right. Someone wouldn't stop calling his name.

"Can you hear me?"

As consciousness slowly came back to him he realized that the voice belonged to his boyfriend and he experienced a strange feeling that he would later decide was a combination of panic and déjà vu. For a moment, he forgot where he was and didn't know which version of Jack he would find if he opened his eyes. Was this reality or was it another dream?

"James?"

Jack was the only one who was allowed to call him by his full name. He'd always hated it, but for some reason he decided it sounded nice...natural...good coming from Jack's lips. He found himself wondering, strangely, at that moment why. 

Jack's fingers twined with his, squeezing just hard enough to draw Ford's attention back. Ford grunted a sleepy approximation of Jack's name. 

"I got your message." Jack made a sound like a mostly-choked laugh. "When you're feeling better I'm going to kick your ass for doing that in a voicemail and then getting yourself shot."

Ford couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips. "D'n't...try to." He managed to open his eyes a fraction, blinking against the harsh hospital lighting, trying to focus on Jack's blurry shape hovering near his left shoulder.

"I know. Just...don't ever do something that stupid again. I don't..." He took a deep breath and ran his free hand over the two-day stubble on his chin before leaning over and pressing his lips to Ford's. He was far more gentle than Ford thought he needed to be, strictly speaking, but it was an affirmation. He pressed another light kiss to Ford's jaw and whispered "I love you," in his ear.

"Careful," Ford mumbled. "Ain't ev'r gonna get rid 'f me now."

An almost surprised laugh burst from Jack and he pressed his forehead to Ford's shoulder wearily as a wave of relief swept over him, so powerful it nearly brought tears to his eyes. 

Ford managed to raise the hand Jack wasn't clutching to his chest, his stiff, shaky fingers tunneling into Jack's hair. "S'okay," he said over and over. "M'okay."

They stayed in that position, occasionally murmuring to each other, until the drugs pulled Ford back into a healing sleep.

************  
Epilogue

 

"He's crashing!"

Jack frantically tried to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. There was nothing he could do anymore. 

A gunshot rang out and he looked up in time to see Ford's body slump to the floor.

'I can fix this,' he thought frantically, reaching for the bomb perched on the tray alongside his surgical tools. 'I have to do this.' 

He pushed the detonator and closed his eyes. One way or another, it would all be over soon.

"Doc?"

Jack opened his eyes. Ford was standing in front of him, an amused smile tugging at his lips. They were on a beach, but Ford was wearing a suit.

"Dad."

Jack turned as David pressed something into his hand. David was also wearing a suit and smiling at him. Behind him, Jack's mother and Claire stood side-by-side, both wearing dresses and smiling at him proudly. Jack looked at the ring in his hand. 

Right.

He turned to Ford and had a momentary panic when he couldn't remember which hand the ring was supposed to go on before slipping it on the proper finger.

"By the power granted to me by the State of California, I pronounce you married." Jack spared a glance at Juliet, who winked and addressed the rest of her statment directly to him. "You may kiss your husband."

Ford cradled his head gently and kissed him and their surroundings seemed to melt away. Everything except for a strange, shrill beeping.

Jack opened his eyes blearily and fumbled for the alarm clock on the bedside table. He heard Ford grumble unhappily as he rolled toward the far side of the bed, taking the blankets with him. Jack sighed and rolled back to spoon up against his boyfriend.

"Don' you needta go ta work," Ford slurred sleepily.

"Five more minutes." Jack buried his face in Ford's hair, pressing tighter against his sleep-warm body. 

Ford reached back to pat his hip, then sighed and relaxed as he slowly started drifting back to sleep.

Jack let his fingers trace delicately along the edge of the scar on Ford's abdomen. Nearly six months had passed since Ford had nearly died on a case - over a year since they first met - and Jack hadn't had the dream again once. He still saw the bomb occasionally in different contexts, but "Sawyer" had never again tried to kill him. Ford reported that his dreams had gone entirely back to normal ("teeth fallin' out...showin' up at work naked...fuckin' you in front of an audience. You know, the usual").

"I c'n hear you thinkin'."

Jack shook himself from his thoughts. "Thought you were going back to sleep."

"Mmm." Ford reached for his wandering hand, tangling their fingers. "Bad dream?"

Jack thought about it for a moment. Yes, he'd seen the bomb again, but that part of the dream had a certain sense of finality about it. He had taken control. He had changed it. He didn't think he would have those dreams anymore. And the rest of it...

"No," he smiled. "Good dream."

He settled in against Ford, closing his eyes. Five more minutes.


End file.
